Chronic
by Trace Sukirata
Summary: Having endured a dozen time loops through Awakening in an effort to return home, Chalysane has become a veteran of a struggle that has lasted over twenty years. When she finally breaks free of the chain, however, she finds that the final timeline has changed in ways that she had never expected.
1. Chapter 1 - Twelfth (Premonition)

Chapter I – Twelfth

Darkness pulses. Actually, it would be more so correct to say that the darkness of the insides of your eyelids seems to pulse. Especially when you're in pain. However, this is a problem that needs to be dispelled. Immediately.

With that thought, I force open my eyes to see the slowly approaching Dragon's Table, the air buffeting me as I fall. However, unlike any of the previous times I've fought my way towards this place, and now as I fall towards the barrier, I am completely sure of myself. This time, I know my way.

How many times have I repeated the same conversations with these characters? How many times have I heard their oversaid death quotes? Despite each and every pass through the same unchanging plotline, I have never seen success. I have been bound to an endless loop. Had I ever acted "out-of-line", as He would phrase it, He would mercilessly reset the entire timeline, forcing me to once more find my way through the labyrinth that was once my favorite game.

Fire Emblem Awakening. One would think that I would have taken Robin's place. Fine. I'm not the tactician. In that case, one would expect me to influence the story via my own methods, just not as the strategist. But no. Of course not. That is not the case with me: I am to act according to orders. I cannot make my own decisions. I am simply "just another unit", nothing more, and possibly even less. Either I act to orders, or someone would die.

He toyed with me. He killed my beloved characters before my eyes. I was forced to watch as they fell to the ground either dead or dying. I was forced to watch the horror on their faces as they realized they had made a perilous mistake. I was forced to watch their terror as they realized they were about to die. I was forced to watch as Robin, cold fear and regret in his or her eyes, saw "inevitable" losses. He forced me to act simply a controllable unit, not a player in his sick game. And, should He have seen fit, He forced me to die. And if I, Chrom, or Robin died, or if something happened that didn't fit with His "Story", then the timeline would reset.

Chapter 23. For the fourth time, in the twelfth loop, I have, once more and finally, found my way here. And still, despite everything, I am not yet insane. Even after surviving more than twenty years in this "game of life". I have aged mentally, if never physically. I have lost my love for this "game" that I used to call "Fire Emblem Awakening". In the place of what used to be called "love", there now exists only "hatred", "fear", "anxiety", "anguish". What other descriptors need I add? Oh yes. "A World of Torture." Oh wait, that doesn't describe how I feel about the game. Does it matter?

Once more, I am here at the Dragon's Table. I defy Robin's commands for the first time in this loop. I throw Sumia off of her Falcon, much to her and, not to mention, the entire remaining company's surprise, and rode and directed it as it flew up into the air. I've ridden them before, something that they somehow seem to understand and know, despite the timeline resets. I flew high above the battlefield, watching as units from both sides fight and die, and over the energy field separating Validar, Chrom, and Robin from everyone else. Seeing the next few moments in my mind, I prepare my Blade-Lance. Just as I expected, before I jump, I find both myself and the falcon blasted by a explosion of wind, the source of which is an Excalibur tome.

For a moment I closed my eyes as an instinctive reaction to the pain of being hit by such a powerful blast of magic. Darkness pulses. Or, at least, the insides of my eyelids pulse. Especially considering the pain that accompanies it. However, the pain was naught in comparison to my sheer desire to finally put my attempt at an escape into action. It is nothing a momentary obstacle that will be dispelled immediately. And so I force open my eyes. The time for reminiscing is over. The time to enter the final loop, on the other hand, is now.

As I quickly approach the barrier, I can hear Him yell, "Whatever are you trying to do, Chalys?!"

He says it in His ever-laughing way of speaking, and it is all I can do to control my anger and focus myself on my objective. As I dive towards the barrier, He suddenly jumps up and into my line of dive in order to bar my path, grasping His sword, Chronic, with both of His hands. As time seems to slow for me, and as my target seemingly highlights Himself in my vision, I delink the two halves of my Blade-Lance and angle both swords in my preparation to launch my strike.

As I close on Him, He smirks and taunts, "You can't kill me as you are, Chalys."

I mentally scoff at His taunt and grip my blades' handles tighter."Never planned to."

With a quiet three words, I use the limits of my strength and dexterity to launch my blades into a hyper-velocity slash. Just as I expect, He blocks the attack, which is exactly what I wanted Him to do. The moment the blades impact on His Chronic, we both stop in midair, suspended.

The fiery light in His eyes seem to laugh, "Is this a joke?"

However, despite what He may have believed, the situation at hand is FAR from any joke. Instantly, I change my grip on my blades and force the blades to move just as rapidly as before, sending Him flying towards the barrier. The impact is completely silent, but the force of the fall is apparent on His face, not to mention the accompanying almost invisible cracks appearing in the barrier. With a flaring pain behind me, I suddenly reaccelerate into a dive at my target, and I can't help but scream at him, "PAY FOR YOUR SIN."

A quick regrasping, reangling, redirectioning, and I launch a cross-slash at my grounded target, shattering the barrier completely and sending Him into the ground. An explosion of rock and dust crests from where He lands, and I glare at it as I fall to the ground myself, as I land, instead, on my feet.

Three voices. Robin's and Chrom's to my left, and Validar's to my right. Each of them sound out at once. Their words, by order of stated name, are "Chalysane?!", "What…?", and "You…".

I turn my head and glare at Validar to my right. He gathers energy at his open palm, the tome "Grima's Truth" enclosed in his other. He grins cruelly as he fires the blast at me, yelling proudly, "This is all written!" As the pulse of dark energy flies at me, I simply slash it, which should have been a critical hit, into oblivion with my right-ward blade. As the explosion of darkened flame obscures my movement, I dash at him and quickly bisect him with my left-ward blade, as I coldly mutter, "I don't have time for you." He falls to the ground, disappearing as a violet flame consumes his body.

Before Robin or Chrom can react to anything, however, His laughing voice sounds out yet again. "Ah-ah-ah! That's not part of the story, is it? It has to be Robin and Chrom, not you."

I turn my attention to him, who's now appearing from within the cloud of debris. This was the moment I was waiting for. The moment that he stabs Chronic into ground.

"Looks like we'll just have to restart."

Just as He stabs Chronic into the ground, reversing the hourglass embedded into its crossguard, I slash straight across dividing line between the crossguard and the blade, removing the bottom of the hourglass. A look of a mixture of horror and rage flies across His face as the sands of time run out from the bottom and onto the ground, disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke. His screams of rage drown out my words, but never succeed in deadening my grim satisfaction.

"Just one more pass, alright?"

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**Edit: Changed "hilt" to "crossguard" when referring to where the hourglass is on Chronic.**  
**Edit: Changed "hilt" to "crossguard" when referring to the dividing line between the crossguard and the blade.**  
**Edit: Added "Removing the bottom of the hourglass" to specify the result of the action of slashing across the dividing line.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Misplaced (Prologue)

Chapter 2 – Misplaced

I had named His Sword "Chronic" for a reason. The name itself described the blade. A combination of the word Chronos, the Greek word for time, and the suffix –ic, which is a suffix that I had always understood to mean "To have the characteristic of". The blade Chronic, as its name implied, had the characteristic of time. However, I still do not know the Sword's true name, nor where it had originated. However, I do know His name. My thoughts are interrupted by the wind and a unexpected voice.

"Chrom, we have to do something!"

The uneasy unknowing of how to act in her voice is apparent, but that isn't what brings me the terrible sense of dread. As I struggle against my eyes to hopefully prove my ears wrong, I hear the next part of the script.

"What do you propose we do?"

The vision my eyes present me is blurry, providing me with little information. However, the adrenaline that starts to flow through me, stemming from the fear of what might be occurring, helps clear up the symptoms within moments.

"I… I dun-…" However, her words are cut off by my own.

"Where is she?"

I quickly leap to my feet, throwing both Chrom and his sister off balance, causing them to exclaim in surprise. Frederick, who seems to be standing off to the side, suddenly flinches, his hand moving for his lance. However, his shock is not my main concern.

"There should be four of you, not three. Where is the fourth?!"

In all sincerity, the fear most likely apparent in my voice doesn't seem to alleviate Frederick's uneasiness and suspicion. In fact, I can rightly believe that it enhances it. As for Chrom and Lissa, they seem to be utterly confused. As I look around widely, Frederick finally decides to draw his lance, probably aiming to fulfill his role before the other two could react.

"What do you mean fourth?" Chrom draws his blade, suddenly following in Frederick's lead, as Lissa steps away from me. As I suddenly realize the potential danger of the situation, I jump away from the trio and raise my hands. As I jump, however, I also realize that my Blade-Lance's weight is absent from my back, and I notice it lying at Frederick's feet.

"Freder-" However, Lissa's confusion is dismissed as unreasonable before she can even finish her sentence.

"Can you not see the look on her face? Uneasiness. Who knows what she may be plotting."

As I look to the ground, eyeing my Blade-Lance, Frederick suddenly picks it up and throws it further away as Chrom covers his action. However, despite his own actions, Chrom seems to be hesitant about the situation. For a split moment, I contemplate disarming the two of them, but I quickly remove the option from my list. This is the final timeline, and I can't afford to screw anything up.

However, as I secretly admit to myself, all that truly mattered at the moment was the fact that I was personally obligated to keep both Chrom and Robin alive. Though I could quickly resolve the situation by taking back my Blade-Lance, running to where she could be, and saving her arse, it probably wouldn't sit well with them in the after-math. As such, I decide to do all that I could to speed the dialogue of the story along,.

"Frederick, give her the benefit of the doubt." Besides, it would seem that Chrom is finally taking my side, as he probably would have done earlier had I not moved so suddenly.

"Benefit of the doubt? She's clearly looking for a fourth. Perhaps it is one of the other Shepherds that she was ex-" Hearing Frederick's argument, I find that I have enough knowledge to counter his suspicion.

"She's not a Shepherd… Or is it a he?" At that moment, I also realize that I seem to have momentarily forgotten what the previous loop's Robin was female. However, considering that I woke up where Robin was supposed to wake, I can just as easily assume that the last loop doesn't matter anymore. Nor do any of the previous loops.

"See? She's not entirely sure of her target. She simply knows she's meant to kill-" Frederick's tone of voice is irritatingly certain, but I can understand his point of view.

"I have no intention of killing you three. However, it is imperative, and I mean _imperative _ that we find out where he or she is." I also find that my vagueness does not seem to help me case.

At this point, Chrom decides to strike in between the gap between my argument and Frederick's argument. "First explain why you were lying in the middle of this field. And why did you wake up upon hearing us talk?" Chrom's questions are quite reasonable, not to mention not so prejudiced.

"I… don't exactly know why I was lying in this field." This is a wholehearted truth. I was actually supposed to wake up in Southtown, as I had done in each of the previous loops, watching as the four of them entered the town, weapons drawn. "And I woke up because I heard people talking, not necessarily because it was your voices. " This is also a potential truth. Another piece of the truth was due to an unexpected adrenaline spike from hearing unexpected voices.

"Oh! I know what this is! It's partial amnesia!" Despite what I believe, I also admit that Lissa's explanation could be somewhat true. I never do remember anything directly prior to waking up in a new timeline, other than being told that the timeline would be reset or feeling the pain of dying, as acute or slow as it is. Specifically, I do not remember how I get to where I am when I wake up. Not that I need to. Prior to waking up in a timeline, I simply do not exist, except for an innkeeper saying, when I woke up each time in the inn, "Good morning." He never says anything more without prompt.

However, I decide that specifics are better than vagueness. "It's not amnesia. It's simply that I do not know why I woke up in this field. I can tell you most other things." As Lissa begins to speak, and as Chrom eyes me, expecting me to say something more, and as Frederick glares at me, still heavy with suspicion, I quickly prevent anything further. "However, it is a conversation topic for later."

As I turn to retrieve my Blade-Lance, which lies uncomfortably far from its place on my back or in my hands, Frederick graciously reminds me that he still has his lance aimed at my heart. On the other hand, Chrom seems to have lowered his blade, if not necessarily sheathed it. "Frederick shall deal with the care of your weapon for now. We'll sort this situation out back in town."

Instinctively, I protest, even as I remember mid-sentence what his response would be. "I don't quite like having my weapon quite so far out of reach." Frederick seems to ever-so-slightly smile in response to my unease, leaving Chrom to answer in his place. "Peace – I promise we'll return it once you've explained yourself in town."

* * *

As we walk, "Peace", as Chrom called it, returns to me, though not for the reason that he expects. My Blade-Lance was never my only weapon. As I discovered when I entered this world, my Blade-Lance wasn't the only thing that followed me: My control over mana followed as well. However, I had completely refrained from using it, lest Kyph see it, call it foreign, and reset the timeline. However, now that Kyph can no longer reset the timeline, I feel completely free to use it, should I ever decide to.

Despite this peace, I feel inclined to inquire as to how they see me, considering my sour first impression. "What am I currently, so to speak?" Chrom turns his head to look at me, noting my more-than-likely grim expression. "A guest. Frederick the Wary, on the other hand, might believe otherwise."

"I simply vie for your safety, milord." Chrom smiles at this response, and proceeds to tease his guardian further. "Sometimes, I almost think you're a butler…" Before a unexpectedly unsettled Frederick can respond, Lissa voices her agreement. "You do a lot for him, after all… So much, sometimes, it's almost gets out of hand. I mean, clearing gravel?"

For a number of minutes, the trio go off on a tangent, one that doesn't interest me. Though I had never before heard the conversation sequence before, I can't help but feel as if it isn't my place to listen. On the other hand, the smoke rising from the town just a small ways off is much more relevant to making my way to the end of the story. The only thing that fascinates me about the situation, in fact, is the fact that Lissa has yet to notice that-

"Chrom, look! The town!" Ah, Lissa's despaired cry, right on cue. Mid-thought stream, not to mention mid-Chrom's sentence. The conversation between the three of them instantly ceases as they all look forwards toward the town.

"Damn it, why didn't we notice it?! Those blasted bandits… You were looking forwards, didn't you see the smoke!?" Suddenly, I find Chrom has turned his unexpectedly angered voice on me. Once more, I find Frederick glaring at me, this time with probably justified suspicion. "Actually, no. I was following the path with my eyes." A simple white lie on my part should resolve the situation.

However, it seems that Chrom is still quite able to tell that I'm lying, despite the fact that I've had countless instances of practice, all of which ended in success. "Why do I find you hard to believe… Frederick, Lissa! Quickly!" Chrom and Lissa expectantly dash forward. However, Frederick momentarily hesitates to grab me by the arm and pull me forward, much to my surprise.

"Why're you involving me in this?!" It's a sudden exclamation which I voice, though I planned to follow them nonetheless. "You saw the smoke, and you didn't say anything. You're involved." A well-based justification. I admit defeat on the mental front, and conceded to running ahead of Frederick on the physical front.

As Chrom quickly slashes down two enemies as he enters the town, and as Frederick dispatches the third of the group, I immediately notice something is wrong. There are approximately four times the normal numbers of enemies, specifically about fortyfive. I had never seen such a large force so early in a timeline, and I can't help but wonder if shattering Chronic's hourglass resulted in such.

"By the gods… This is one of the largest groups of bandits that I've seen." As the flames slowly consuming the town quickly spread and grow, probably due to the unusual amount of bandits, I silently agree with Chrom's confidently made statement. I quickly scan the area, looking for Robin. However, she is nowhere to be immediately seen. The condition is a problem that needs to be resolved.

"Chrom, Frederick, Lissa, stay out of sight. I need to check something. I'll be back in a few seconds." Before any of them can do anything to prevent me, I quickly stalk into the danger area. Almost immediately, one of the bandits notice me, and, as luck would have it, he wields a tome. Just as he casts a blast from the Elwind, I quickly dodge towards him, rolling out of the path of the blade of wind.

As I stand back up, I catch his jaw with an upward open palm thrust, knocking him literally off his feet. He falls back to the ground, landing flat on his back, and I take the chance to steal the tome out from his hands. As I dash away and dive behind another fruit stand, I cast a blade of wind at him with a slash of my arm before he can recover from the physical shock, removing what little hitpoints he had left.

I ready another slash, expecting another target, but no one approaches. Momentarily, I realize that the lacking was caused by the advancement of Chrom and Frederick, who casually engage and dispatch the last of the remaining enemies in the square. As a reward for their forwardness, they draw the attentions of the mages across the rivers on both sides of us. Consequentially, blasts of tome-based magic begin to fall like artillery around the fruit stand.

"An observation and a question. You activated that tome almost instantly, and why did you rush in like that?!" I lift my head over the side of the fruit stand for a moment to guage the situation, and find myself almost thrown backwards by yet another blast of Elwind, which I duck below just in time. Resigning myself to the fact that we were momentarily pinned down, I decide to answer Chrom's questions. "A response and an answer. I've memorized the lines, and I told you to stay. Idiot."

Though Chrom glared at me for the final word in my response, I didn't exactly care for what he thought. If he died here, there was no way to reset the timeline, which would make completing the storyline impossible. On a personal basis, I found myself justified. I decided to justify myself to him as well. "I'm searching for the fourth person. He or she should most likely be here, if not still in the field…"

"Who is this-" "There. There… She is." As Chrom begins to question once more whom I was talking about, I sight Robin across the river to our right, battling a sizeable number of bandits with her thunder tome. Each strike is cast with a slight delay, an indicator that she doesn't seem too sure of herself. As I strategize my approach to assist her, I analyze which Robin variant the timeline has chosen. Female Robin, variant 11261. The main thing that surprises me about this Robin, however, is the fact that she is female. According to the pattern, she should be male, as the pattern had switched the gender every timeline prior.

I dismiss the situation and focus my attention on extracting Robin from the increasingly perilous situation. Judging from the bandits quickly surrounding her, I have possibly eleven seconds before she is overwhelmed. I glance at Chrom, who nods understandingly and sends Frederick out as a distraction, whom he follows moments later. I glance at Lissa and motion for her to come with me, to which she nods hesitantly. By the end of the combat sequence, Robin was more than likely going to be injured, if not myself, and Lissa was the only healer I had. Besides, as I knew, it would be irresponsible to leave her by herself. The rough strategy in mind, along with hopes that it won't fall to pieces in practice, I begin my assault.

The mana, as I call it, of the wind tome wraps gently around my outstretched arm, and slivers of the gathering power break away, causing mini-duststorms to rise up around me. Running towards the group surrounding Robin, I must look unnatural to the singular unit that has noticed me, and is now warning his comrades. Mages and dark mages alike both read the words contained in the tome to access their powers, and they are limited by the speed at which they can read the words when unleashing the tome's potential. However, with my affinity for mana, as I've learned over the timelines, I'm not limited by the process. And with a rapid slash of my arm through the air, I launch an Elwind blade through the air towards the bandit that noticed me.

At that moment, Robin switches to her bronze sword and engages the nearest enemy, causing the group attention to switch once more to her. As this happens, I fall upon the group, engaging them in close combat. A blade of air towards him, dodge her downward slash, follow up with a elbow to the spine, snapping it, and steal her blade. Use her blade to block the axe coming towards me by way of Marth's method of protecting Lissa, push off and slash through the axewielder with my mana-weaving arm. Throw the sword into the enemy about to decapitate Robin, and sacrifice my left arm's usability to save myself from a similar fate.

A simple case of disabling muscle damage, as the attack failed to infringe upon the bone. Lissa will be able to restore its usage post-combat. Ignore the pain, cross weave an Elwind strike and send the assailant flying into the water. A moment's respite. As Lissa tends to an injured Robin, who seems to have injured her leg, I jump right back into the fray.

Despite the much larger numbers, Chrom and Frederick seem to have handled the situation quite well. A moment's respite for us all, in fact. Across the bridge, towards the town hall, the remaining bandits seem to be regrouping around Garrick. An irregularity in clothing style draws my attention for a fraction of a moment, but it is gone before I can even begin to analyze it. In its place, I analyze the battlefield.

For a moment, I find myself back in a world from a vague memory. Fires rage within and on the buildings, the sound of their flames and the collapsing buildings the only sounds. Absent are the sounds of looting from before, and, in its place, a quiet, grim contemplation of each sides next move. As if we were all in the middle of a war, and we have come across a momentary stalemate.

Each side glares at the other accusingly, quietly furious, each wishing to kill and destroy the others. Chrom and Frederick are furious for the deaths of the people of Southdown, and the damage that has been caused to it. The Bandits are furious for the deaths of their comrades, whom they've more than likely spent countless years together with. If they were Plegians, they would be furious for the same reason. Robin is more than likely furious for an unwarranted and unexplained attack, and Lissa may be furious for the disruption of the peace, though her face claims a simple uneasiness.

I may as well be the one and only exception to the situation. I view the situation in neutrality, each unit standing in front of me as a simple entity in a storyline of struggles. These struggles have no connection to me other than that I must watch and survive them in order to escape. Robin and Chrom must survive the conflict, along with myself, in order to fulfill my goals. Lissa and Frederick, on the other hand, are non-essential, and probably disposable, as useful as they are in this and later situations. It is a harsh truth I had forced myself to accept.

Robin and Lissa join the trio that Frederick, Chrom, and I have formed, forming a quintet. "Chrom, this is your fourth person. Robin here is your tactician." Robin blinks at me in surprise. "How do you know my-" I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "I know a lot of things. It would take too long to explain as it is." I point towards the gathering force across the bridge. "Robin, develop a strategy."

As Robin contemplates the group across the bridge, Chrom puts a hand on my right shoulder. "Lissa, check her arm. And you need to give us a name, at least. You're obviously willing to put your life on the line for Ylisseans, and we'd be lucky to have such a skilled mage." I brush his hand off my shoulder, ignoring the pain in my left forearm as I abuse it and as Lissa heals it. "Chalysane. And I'm not exactly a mage. I just know mana… as I call it…"

Right on cue, Frederick jumps in. "Milord-" However, I had been expecting this. It is Frederick's personality after all. "Unless you agree or accept me staying, Frederick, You'll likely be rid of me once things are sorted out. You can have faith in these words." Despite my words, I had no plan regarding leaving. I had followed a similar conversation in a previous timeline, and said timeline nevertheless resulted in me joining the group.

As I take note of the enemy preparing to advance, I question Robin once more. "Robin, do you have that plan?" I glance over to Robin as she sharply eyes the enemy force. "Why are you telling Rob-" Before Chrom can get any further with that sentence, however, I cut him off once more. "Because Robin here is a natural tactician. Isn't that right?" Her face dashes through a series of confused expressions as she makes an attempt to explain. "On the battlefield, I can see the enemy's strength, weaponry, how far they can move… Basically, how the engagement may play out before anyone acts." I nod at her explanation, noting that it may have been one of the best out of all the timelines.

"Do I know you from somewhere, Chalysane?" As I glance towards Robin, I'm give myself a stern and silent reminder that Robin could vaguely remember the premonition, as it would play a part later in the twenty third chapter. Considering my actions in the latest iteration of the premonition, if one thing should stand out, it was the fact that I destroyed a supposedly undestroyable barrier. "I don't believe you do. However, I know you." My answer is notably double-sided, and appropriately so, considering her-

"Perhaps you might be able to explain why the only thing I remembered is Chrom's name when I couldn't even remember my own at first." Her response sentence caught me off-guard, something that I would have to admit. "Now that's the amnesia I know about!" Lissa pipes in just in time, allowing me a moment's respite that allows me to change the subject. "Though it may be Amnesia, it's not the problem at hand. The pro-"

I see him. He's standing right next to Garrick. He's talking quietly to him, probably advising him. Then he sees me to. His rage flickers across his face, an instant reminder that his memories are retained as well. "Chalysane? Is there something wrong?" However, that rage is quickly replaced by that sickening, calm, collected smile that screams superiority. I glance at Frederick, whose horse currently carries my Blade-Lance, and I push the Elwind tome into Robin's hands. "Robin, modify your plan. Compensate for my actions."

Before any of the four of them can react, I steal my Blade-Lance off of Frederick's horse, just as he grabs for it in an attempt to prevent me from doing so. His grip locks just in time, but his grip is broken just as quickly by the force of my pull. I'm at our side's foot of the bridge within moments, and Garrick simply laughs at my display. "That's right, Sheepy. Come to the Slaughter…" He throws the axe, with a precision that I had not expected.

However, though he may have precision, I have skill unlike most others. With confident ease, I knock his flying hand axe off its trajectory and onto the ground. "Don't bother. You." Though He wields Chronic, the broken hourglass is apparent on its crossguard, and I can't help but smile at my success. "Oh, you seem quite happy, don't you?" Despite my success and his momentary display of rage, he seems collected once more. In an attempt to rethrow him off balance, I respond to his question with a taunt. "Why wouldn't I be? You can't reset it anymore. If I play my cards right, I'm free."

He laughs easily at my taunt. "And if _I _play _my_ cards right, then this world will be your resting place. I can assume you noticed that there are more enemy units here than usual?" As the pieces fell into place for me, I felt another wave of dread begin to fill me. "Well, I can tell you now, my sword still has some of its power. Now, if you would excuse me…" He flips his blade, point facing down, and stabs it into the ground. As Chronic buries itself into the ground, he disappears, along with Chronic. Instantly. There one moment, then no trace of him the next.

"Hmm… Seems you and ghosty here are friends. Next time you see him, tell him, "Garrick says thanks for the forces, but he didn't-"" Before he can finish his sentence, however, Garrick finds the leftward half of my Blade-Lance embedded in his chest, a result of me throwing it from across the bridge. ""-That he didn't survive anyways." Got it." It was all I could do to suppress the growing sense of fear. Lowering my gaze to the ground so that no one could possibly see that fear, I raise my blade in a threat to the remaining forces. "You saw me with a tome, and you've seen me with my Blade-Lance. You've probably seen the Shepherds here too, tending to their sheep and killing the wolves. Your choice."

* * *

Within a half a minute, the rest of the bandit crew was dead, watering the dry stones of the square with their blood. During the aftermath, the combatants clean their weapons of blood, and Lissa ensures the few injuries are dealt. As for me, having fought the rest of the battle without the leftward half of my Blade-Lance, I walk over to Garrick, and unsheathe the leftward half from his chest. As I begin to wipe the blade clean with a piece of cloth I had taken from another bandit's clothes, he chokes out one more sentence, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, revealing that he had somehow survived. "You seem scared, Sheepy…" I lift up the leftward half once more and stab it through his skull, ensuring his death.

"He's right. You do seem scared." As Robin confirms the now-dead Garrick's observation, I can't help but admit it silently myself. For the longest while, I had been almost completely free of fear, even when facing down my own death. I had only ever felt anger and frustration when the timeline was ever reset, but I had always known that there would be a next timeline. But now that there was no "next timeline" to fall back upon, despite the increase in difficulties that He had threatened… I couldn't help but feel and intense fear of failure. "For the first time since… a long time ago, I guess I am. Just like you, Robin."

"Robin, Chalysane. I've my doubts that the villagers will be back anytime soon. We're moving out. Chalysane, you can explain to us on the road. You've earned my trust… Or at least some of it. Frederick probably agrees." Chrom turns his head to Frederick, who nods reluctantly. "As for Robin, we can use someone of your talents. Your choice if you wish to join. On another note, I'm also curious as to why you knew my name and not your own at first, if your claim is true." Robin nods without a second's hesitation. "I don't remember much of anything, but I feel as if I might gain some of it back with you. Besides, If I'm good with tactics, I might as well put that to use."

* * *

The walk away from the remains of Southtown is quiet at first. After a while, though, Lissa does break the silence. "I wonder what the villagers would have done if they wanted to thank us…?" I answer her question before anyone else can consider it. "They would have wanted to throw us a feast. I can guarantee it." The despaired look on her face is priceless. "Why couldn't we have stayed…" This time, it's Chrom that answers the question. "Because they would not have been back for a while. Besides… I'm confident Frederick would have had us go anyways." Frederick nods knowingly. "Hardship is necessary for growth, both physically and mentally."

A conversation quickly fires up, but I hold no interest towards it. I've heard another variant of it before. All that I can truly focus on is the fact that the storyline is different now that I've damaged Chronic. Robin was misplaced, as was I, as was He, and as was every other bandit that wasn't supposed to be in Southtown. I am quite confident that the questions towards my origins have been misplaced as well. Though, as I can be assured, Frederick would most likely question towards that point. In the end, all I truly did fear was the fact that my ability to feel fear had yet to completely disappear.

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**Author's Note: This is my response to the review questioning as to whether or not I shall continue this. I do plan on continuing this story. I shall make my best attempts to correctly emulate the character personalities in Fire Emblem Awakening, but be aware that this is truly my first attempt at such. If you have suggestions for me, Please feel free to PM me/post a review regarding such.**

**Edits:  
-****Changed "flies" to "flickers" when describing the rage on His face.  
-Changed "hilt" to "crossguard" when referring to where the broken hourglass is on Chronic ((I did research on swords~! xD))  
-Added in a descriptor referring to the fact that Chalysane threw her blade from across the bridge. Yeah, she did that. Just forgot to say that she did.  
-Edited the section referring to memories prior to waking up. This was a serious mistake. She DOES remember everything that occurred in the prior timelines, just not how she gets to where she wakes up. Please excuse the confusion.  
-Changed "in the way of Marth's" to "By way of Marth's method of protecting Lissa." The previous sentence was relatively difficult to understand, and could be misunderstood as Chalysane protecting Marth in certain cases. Chalysane is protecting herself in the same way Marth protected Lissa: by using the blade as a shield, putting it across her back, and stopping the axe by way of that. ((Then again, you probably knew this. ))  
-Changed words as to indicate that Lissa is the one saying "It's partial amnesia!"  
-Changed "The Innkeeper never says anything more" to "...anything more without prompt."**


	3. Chapter 3 - Time and Time Again

**Author's Note : I found the line button! :O I have accomplished something today TuT I shall go and update the previous chapters accordingly and make correctional edits as needed. Oh, and I also found the bold button. To the story~!**

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Chapter 3 – Time and Time Again.

Dodging Chrom's questions that day were a simple matter, even if Frederick was supposed to be expectantly persistent towards that point. With Chrom, it was a simple matter of bringing up a question of the task of shepherding his people. As he explained, Frederick created an opening to use my main method of derailing the point, which were the numerous ways in which he "assisted" Chrom. I had heard each of these numerous ways before, and I knew enough about what Frederick did to keep him on a tangent well into the day, much to Chrom's and Lissa's despair. Robin, on the other hand, seemed amused by my antics, even as she vaguely seemed to imply that she knew what I was doing, as evidenced by a few glances at me.

By the time we had reached the campfire scene, as I refer to it as, Chrom and, surprisingly enough, Frederick, had both forgotten that they didn't yet trust me. Lissa's childhood naivety had allowed her to give me the benefit of the doubt, even from the moment that I had demonstrated myself to be notably suspicious, though accidentally at that. Considering that her suspecting glances had decreased in frequency, Robin had probably decided to put off the question until a later point. Speaking of Robin, her situation was the first they had decided to discuss, of course after they had finished their conversation referring to what could have been the villager's response to our actions involving their town. It was, in all truthfulness, a simple matter of telling her bits and pieces of what could or would be useful information involving Ylisse and the surrounding areas.

As the hours passed, as the daylight waned and darkness waxed, and as the conversation involving bear meat died away to plans about the day after, the group slowly ended the day with sleep. As for me, I had gone to sleep just as the conversation started to reference Frederick not eating bear meat because "he had already eaten." Then again, I would not have been able to know what had happened after the conversation had I been asleep. As such, one can probably assume.

Which brings me to now, as I sit up where I used to be "sleeping", watching the glowing embers of the fire. In a few past timelines, they had put out the fire before going to sleep, but it seems they had decided against it this time. Through my experiences, it never truly mattered whether they kept the fire going or not, except for whether the night would be comfortably cool or comfortably warm. This time, though, I'm glad they had kept the fire going. I can't help but feel oddly cold in the night air, even though I feel warm.

Chrom lies with his back to the ground, his right leg drawn slightly back, and his left arm across his stomach. I could imagine myself using the same position while napping in the sunlight on the ground, timelines in the past, specifically the first, when I used to enjoy the fact that I lived in the Fire Emblem universe. Or maybe I could have used Frederick's position, his fingers interlaced as they provide a pillow for his head, his right leg crossing over his drawn up left. If I were sleeping on grass, I probably would have used the position that Robin and Lissa use, lying on a side, whichever felt comfortable. I enjoyed the world back then. I didn't exactly hate my predicament. One could even say that I may have liked it.

But then I was hit with harsh reality. Life, as I know it, has never been completely pain free. When I first killed those bandits, I simply saw myself as a heroine, saving the peoples of Southtown from evil-doers. When I killed them the second time, I fought with a promising strength of mind after having been too weak to protect my friends, and I looked forward to strengthening myself in order to do so. When I killed them the third time, after having watched people I loved die, I couldn't help realize that there were people that loved them, even if the things they did weren't exactly positive. When I killed them the fourth time, I knew what it felt like to die, to know that I was going to die, and to know the abyss that came afterwards. And when I fought them from the fifth time onwards, I was cold.

Blood wetted both me and my blades. Life and Death caught in an argument to determine who takes what and who keeps who. And I, someone who had witnessed the same arguments before, simply acted in the way I was told to. A veteran of twenty years, an audience to numerous wars, countless sacrifices, and whatever one wished to call them. The only thing that seemed to change about the life I was force to live and re-live was how I acted and how others reacted. Why wouldn't I be cold?

I pick up my container of water, and I take a sip from it, feeling as its cool touch runs down my throat. A gentle breeze runs through the trees, creating a soothing noise of rustling leaves, playing easily across my ears. The warmth of the fire drifts toward me, pleasurably caressing my comfortably cool skin. However, I, within my mind, can truly feel none of it as I used to during that first timeline, all of those years back. Such is the curse of having experienced too many repetitions of the same song.

"What're you thinking about?" I blink in unsuspecting surprise at hearing Robin's voice. I look up from the dirt of the ground to see that she now sits up, looking into the embers of the fire. What am I supposed to say here? That I was thinking about how many times I've been through the same storyline? Of course not. I've answered this question before. "Just thinking about home." But I never do think about home when I answer that question, do I? No, I simply think about what is to come, and what I might do differently in the next timeline, should the same events occur. I probably would have considered how I might act differently if I were to wake up where Robin was supposed to once more. Then again, there won't be a next timeline.

"Are you sure?" Robin eyes me, a questioning look in her eye. A moment's worth of eye contact, which I break. I could lie and answer yes, but my lie no longer has the same base as it used to. To think of a new one would take too much time, so I simply decide to tell her the truth. "No. I'm not." What I begin to think about moments later, however, is how she had never before been awake past anyone else. But this is something that I know that I will never admit to her. "Is that so? I thought that might be the case." She smiles as she says this, an attempt to make me feel comfortable. It truly is just like her to do so, but she won't find success. I simply nod at her statement.

As the silence resumes, I glance over to my Blade-Lance, which has resumed its task of being accessible to me at all times. Impulsively, I pick it up and finger the leather grips around its handle. To me, mostly all weapons are light, and the Blade-Lance is the only weapon that seems to have a comfortable weight in my hand. Two blades, both eight centimeters wide and one hundred thirty centimeters long, both without cross-guards, with enough grip space for two enclosing hands and three fingers, and joined at the pommel. I know the weapon like I know my own voice, as I don't really know the back of my hand, nor do most people. Just the same, no one can wield it except for me, a consequence of its unusual design.

"Where did you get it? It looks…" I can finish her sentence for her. "Unwieldy, I know. I've been told that several times. As for your question…" As for her question, I had also been asked that several times. At one point, I knew instinctively where and when I received the weapon, just as I knew how I learned to use it. At another point at a later time, I also found that I no longer knew where and when I received it, nor do I know how I learned how to use it. However, considering how I had answered the questions before that time, I never had to change my answer. "My grandfather passed it down to me."

"Your grandfather?" The questioning tone made sense, considering that a person would pass things down to a child, not a grandchild. "My father never had any interest in the warring business. So when my grandfather tried to pass it down to him when he was eighteen, he said to give it to someone who might need it. However, despite this, my grandfather never gave it away. He ended up giving it to me when I was born, before I could deny him. At least, that's what my mother told me." Robin nodded in acceptance of the lies that I told her. If you tell a lie enough times, it eventually starts to feel like a truth.

"Where did your grandfather get it?" I unlinked the two halves of the weapon and held them out from me in a pincer-like manner, visualizing how I would attack from the stance as I answered his question. "I can only assume he made it, considering I've never seen another of the design. He was a blacksmith, according to my father." The answer I gave her that time was only half of a lie. Though it was true that I no longer remembered where and when I had received the weapon, I know for a fact that I had, at some point, crafted it, though I no longer remember how. Also, I had actually seen others of the design, just not in this world. As to where and when, however, I know not.

Robin sighs wearily, the exhaustion apparent in her voice. It was a simple task explaining why she always fell asleep after eating in the previous timelines, but not in this one. She had proportionally less to fight, as I had dealt with a large majority of the enemies. "Where did you learn how to fight like that?" It seemed that her mind was on generally the same subject as I, and it was a question that I could answer truthfully. "I taught myself." Robin nodded once more, justifying my answer in her head. "Your grandfather probably wasn't around by the time you could wield the weapon. And then you've already said that there wasn't another like it."

Robin's ability to understand and connect a plethora of information within seconds had always fascinated me, ever since the beginning of the first timeline. Though, as a player, it may have seemed as if you were just haphazardly moving units around on a battlefield, from Robin's and the units' points of views, it must have seemed like the grandest strategies. Imagine knowing exactly where someone was supposed to move, exactly how someone was supposed to fight, and with whom in order for that person to survive. Such is Robin's ability. However, even this ability apparently has its limits.

"And what about your ability with tomes? Explain that one!" Robin's sudden excitement catches me off guard, as I had always seen her in a collected manner. Of course, excepting a few certain scenes, but I could doubt anyone could stay collected then. "I… I can't. I don't know how I do it myself." The situation had never occurred before. I had always kept my ability to manipulate mana a secret. Not only that, but along with not knowing when and where I got the ability, I also never knew how.

Robin's face brightens as she recollects one of the few experiences she remembers. "That technique, whatever it is… I feel like I've never seen it before! I mean, I feel like I know Ylisse, but that way of casting magic from a tome…" She struggles to find a way to describe a way to describe her fascination as I listen in silence. "It's practical, yes, and it can probably revolutionize the way tomes are used… But when you were running towards me, magic surrounding your arm like armor, the magic breaking off from it and causing dust to blow around you as you ran… It truly feels like nothing I've ever seen before." The embers glow in her eyes with a child-like shining that I don't remember ever seeing before.

Right then, her face breaks from its seriousness into a smile. "Thanks for saving me back then." As her gratitude brings me back to myself from the observation of the shining in her eyes, I respond with my own perspective on the matter. "You've saved me before. It's only right." I don't try and change how I word my response, as I feel that, despite the fact that she hadn't saved me yet within the current timeline, I'm still telling her the truth. "When have I saved you?" The confusion that plays once more across her face is a welcome sight, and I allow myself a grim smile and a positive tone of voice. "In a time you don't remember, and in the future. You are a tactician, the best I've seen, and your loss of memory hasn't seemed to have changed that."

Even as she looks down towards the ground, probably embarrassed, I note that she probably would be saving my life in the future. As strong and as skilled as I have become, along with years of experience, I still cannot see everything as she can. There were four times the normal numbers of enemies in the first true battle of the timeline. While I had to think with my full ability in order to successfully combat the six that were surrounding Robin, Robin had been able to successfully strategize a successful attack against the remaining enemy forces just as easily as ever.

I sigh in response to this thought. In a proportional manner, my numbers had decreased substantially while Robin's had retained hers. "You seemed scared earlier…" She had, by this time recovered her previous self, and her tone expected a response, which I give to her. "I was earlier. Just needed a little time." She nodded once more. Though it seemed she was back to asking questions, it also seemed as if she was still slightly nervous. "What were you scared about?" The answer I gave her now would most likely eventually come to affect how she planned out her strategies, so I took care to give her as truthful an answer as I could provide. "That I wouldn't be able to be as helpful as before, considering the number of enemies that I saw then."

She then shakes her head almost furiously, breaking from the chain of nods. "You'll never not be helpful. You have skills we don't. That no one else does. If there is one thing you will always be, it's helpful, if not mysterious." For a moment, I consider asking her what she meant by the final statement. However, I conclude that Robin would always be able to read people better than anyone, and people would always include me. This time I am the one to nod, and I lay back down, turning onto my side, feeling relaxed for the first time in a long while.

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**Author's Note : **

**Apologies for the shorter chapter. I had actually planned to go into the battle scene here, but then I stopped here. Then again, I feel as if the previous one was longer than usual. Of course, I also feel as if this one feels better in my point of view. I don't know how to describe it ^^" This one just feels better xD.**

**Either that, or my creative ability finally ran dry for the day. Just went through about what would have normally been twelve hours of scattered creation. I can't remember the first half of the day. xP I literally feel as if I've been writing the entire day O.o Of course, this isn't true…**

**Veh! I'm tired, I can't focus, I've yet to eat, and I feel awesome for writing fanfiction. Fanfiction that I actually don't criticize myself to death about! Yeah! Okay. I'm going to watch anime. And play games.**

**Until the next chapter ^^"**


	4. Chapter 4 - Don't you remember?

**Pre-story Author's note:**

**This delay in posting has been brought to you by:**

**Trace's Revision, Editing, and Rewriting services! When I think that I should give something a check before I publish it, I might just end up revising the first paragraph of the story, Editing the rest of it, and rewriting the ending! ((Actually did. Revised the first four paragraphs of the story and condensed it into one to remove some data. I did edit the rest of the body, and I did rewrite the ending))**

**Please enjoy~!**

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Chapter 4 – Don't you remember?

"You were the one who wanted this." I open my eyes and look into a wasteland. "You were the one who asked for this." Crumbling buildings, charred craters, bodies of fallen warriors. "You were the one who wished for me to make this." But I feel nothing: I'm used to it. "Don't you remember?" I've seen this all before. "I was doing you a favor."

The ground beneath me shakes me awake, assuming that my rapidly beating heart wasn't the cause of the same end-result. However, my mind still seems to be trapped in a blur of a fading fire. There's fire. Where was I, again? I slept after talking to Robin. I felt relaxed, but now I'm panicked… Why am I panicked? Actually… I don't think I'm panicked. I think I'm still asleep.

I struggle to get to my feet. The two others that are with me, though, have more trouble than I. Once I get to my feet, I'm not going to fall over, but these other two proceed to fall over several times. I almost find it funny, and I quickly stifle a laugh. Considering all the shaking, shouldn't there be an appropriate level of sound? Of course, there's only silence on this part. Why is there silence? Alys, dearie, why don't you wake up?

Alys… I've heard that name before. There's an Alys in my name. It's right after the C and the H. Chalys. Chalysane? But those three letters… That's my name, I know that for a fact. No, it is? And I still haven't explained this fire. I haven't explained? I'm confident it isn't my fault. I mean, I don't use fire. I use mana. Well, I used to use fire… And Ice. And electricity for that matter. But my Blade-Lance was my favorite weapon. I could do stuff no one else could.

The two that are with me start to pull me along. One's dressed in a suit of armor, and the other in a sort of coat. I'm wearing armor myself. It's much less bulkier, however. Wonder where I got it… Come to think of it, why am I even here? Wasn't I supposed to be sleeping on the ground? Wait, wasn't it a bed? There seems to be a sort of duality occurring right now… I wonder why.

Chalysane, you need to stop thinking for a moment. But thinking is the right thing to do. Always think before you- Not right now. I seem to be arguing with myself again. Shut up and listen to myself. You can't be doing this right now. How can you still be half-asleep? But I'm completely asleep, aren't I? No you aren't. Think about it, Chalysane. Focus.

I blink my eyes and finally focus. "Chalysane, C'mon! Wake-" I shake my head, clearing out the extraneous thought processes. "Okay, okay! Sorry, sorry." Where were we… Ah yes. Flames in the forest. Which means I am right around the part when Marth (, as I will refer to her for the time being,) jumps in. "You're a heavy sleeper, aren't you?" I look at Frederick, who seems to be glaring in annoyance at me. I return that glare and counter his forwardness. "Speak for yourself. And you know I'm right." A look of shock crosses his face moments before another quake spike knocks the two of them back to the ground. As for me, now that I'm finally awake, I'm used to this, and I don't fall over. I've been through this sequence twelve times, after all. Another one isn't going to change any-

And then there's the shining circle that I've been waiting for. As a consequence of the dimensional crack, the Risen start to pour out onto the land at a terrifyingly fast rate. I quickly make a silent note to myself stating not to refer to them as Risen until it is officially announced. Then again, considering past occurrences, calling them such didn't exactly change anything. However, as I recall, it seems that Chrom and Frederick are much more suspicious about me than last time, probably as a result of me acting quite rashly in the beginning. As such simply calling them Risen-

Another shining circle appears in the sky. And then another. And then a third, increasing the number to four. My heart seems to stop for a short moment, and my responsatory gasp comes into being mainly because of that. My open mouth, on the other hand, is a consequence of the three extra Risen-Spawn points in this specific area. And then a fourth one opens up, from which Risen do not spawn from, but from which Marth flies from, drawn Falchion in hand. Immediately afterwards, another figure follows, drawn blade in hand, who is immediately followed by a third.

There isn't supposed to a second or a third figure. Marth and the Risen are the only ones that are supposed to jump from the dimensional-time gate. However, this situation at hand calls for the extra figures to be put off to the side. There are currently four times the normal amount of Risen in the area, which means four times the normal amount of threat to Chrom, Lissa, and Marth. It's about time that the quaking stopped. Frederick and Robin need to get to their feet.

"Frederick, Robin, prepare for close quarters combat!" I draw my Blade-Lance and break it into its two halves. Frederick prepares his shining-in-the-firelight silver lance while Robin prepares her already-sparking thunder tome and they come up on either side of me. "The question is, Are you ready, Chalysane?" I glance at Robin, taking note of her notably confident tone. Despite the obviously dangerous situation, its apparent that she's in her element. "Lead us, Robin."

Reasoning is unnecessary as Robin directs us, speaking as we begin our dash to the front lines. "Frederick will cover Lissa and I will cover Chrom. Chalys, acquire information on the three late figures. Primary objectives are to regroup and fight off any aggressors." I nod at her commands and I increase my speed, easily distancing myself from the other two. The three late figures are likely to have a different agenda than the rest of the dimensional-time gate, though I already know the agenda of one of them. Which leaves my task to discover the intentions of-

A tree explodes into shards of splinters to my right, and a flying object plows through me, knocking me to the ground. As for the object itself, it slams into another tree before stopping, at which point the object, apparently a human wearing a coat, the hood up, slumps to the ground. "Nice try. But you're not going to best me that easily." As I struggle to recover from the unexpected physical shock, the human that got thrown into the tree pushes itself up from the ground with the assistance of a blade acting as a staff. "I don't mean to best you. But you're not going near her." Said human is most likely male, though his voice clearly sounds otherwise to an untrained ear, and his opponent is apparently and clearly male.

"Oh, but I already am. And you did so nicely as to knock her to the ground for me." I can only assume that whoever the assailant is, he is most likely referring to me, and I quickly jump to my feet. "Oh wait… She's already up. No matter." His arm moves, and I react instantly to block the-

And then I lose all feeling in my left arm. My leftward Blade-Lance falls to the ground with my hand still grasping it, the hand still connected to the rest of my arm. I understand what just happened. It's happened before. And, just like before, It hurts. Just as I expect it to hurt. An intense, sharp, unrelenting pain. As if I were stabbed in the same place thirty times, except that I was stabbed thirty times in enough places to cover the entire area of open wound. It also feels like I'm suddenly missing a piece of myself. Then again, this is a true fact. However, right before tears can form in my eye, which will smear my vision, I take the chance to thrust my rightward Blade-Lance straight through his stomach.

And then I pull it out, spin around him, and do the same of what he did to me. And then I stab through him once more, this time making sure that my blade severs the spinal cord toward his legs. Before he can start to scream in pain, I kick his now unsupported body to the ground, causing both his arm and his body to hit it at the same time. I strike his right hand with a well-placed kick, causing him to release his weapon, and kick his sword away from him. The place where my left arm was connected to my body starts to numb as my body finally reacts to the situation, coating my pain receptors with a chemical blocker, which in turn prevents my tears from forming, even as I fall to the ground, dizziness momentarily overtaking me.

"Chalysane!" The other enigmatic figure screams out my name as he realizes that I've suddenly lost my arm and dashes to my side. Unlike most people, however, I can react calmly to the situation, even as the intense pain threatens to overtake my mentality. I have countless years of experience, years that have seen pain far greater than what I'm feeling at the current moment. Also, the same years of experience have also taught me how to effectively resolve such a situation such as loss of limb. As for raising the dead, however, I still need to do a little research to perfect that method.

"That's my name. What's yours?" There's never anything like a little humor to defuse a terrifying situation, especially as I sit up, seemingly oblivious to the missing arm. However, it would seem that my attempt has no effect on the terrified boy. "That doesn't matter! Your arm! How-" I drop my rightward Blade-Lance and cover his mouth for a moment before putting a finger to it. "Sh, sh… Stop worrying. I doubt you have a Heal, Cure, or Recover staff on you?" He shakes his head as he struggles to maintain his silence. I sigh, which causes me to wince instinctively as I prepare for the pain (which never comes), which in turn causes the boy to shudder. Using Lissa's Heal to deal with the situation would make future engagements even more so difficult until we reach the capital. However, I'm confident that the situation warrants it. Until I get to Lissa, though…

"Boy, give me your hood." With a moment's hesitation, most likely due to confusion, the boy takes off his coat and slices the hood off with his sword. In all truthfulness, I could have just as easily used his coat's sleeve, but I simply wished to see his face. Light blue hair, similarly colored eyes, a light facial complexion, and a feminine facial structure. Coupling such with his notably high-pitched and similarly feminine voice, one could have easily mistaken him for a girl. However, after a certain war monk, I'm not one to make such a mistake, though this boy may be worse off than him. The main thing that catches my attention is how unfamiliar he looks.

I calmly fold his hood into an appropriate shape and I press it to the wound. "Cut off the sleeves, cut them both in half, tie the ends together, and use the cloth to bind this to the wound. Wrap it around me." The boy quickly and deftly obeys my command, effectively stopping the bleeding for the moment. I then say something that chills him to the core, even as I struggle to stifle my own amusement. "Now pick up my arm and follow me." My amusement stems from the fact that, after all, it's not every day that someone says, "Pick up my arm and follow me." Then again, I guess it's inappropriate to laugh at it for now. Maybe later.

As he stumbles over to my arm, which is a few feet away, I notice that the person who cut off my arm is suddenly absent from the scenery, as well as his sword. Considering that I had severed his nerval connection to his legs, he obviously didn't walk away. The lack of any screams of pain whatsoever are what unnerve me the most. "Boy, what happened to our assailant?" As he stumbles toward me, severed arm in hand, a sight that would have been hilarious if it were a fake arm, he shakes his head. "He jumped again." While I'm confident a look of confusion crosses my face, I ignore the obvious question and stand up. The assailant probably "jumped" moments after he hit the ground, which explains why I never heard his screams for longer than a few seconds. "Let's go help the others."

He nods, fear on his face, and runs over to the tree to pick up his weapon. As he picks the weapon up, I silence the emotional spike in my system and ignore the pain in my heart as I quickly sever my thought processes in regards to what I saw. I once more ignore the obvious question. "Boy, go assist Marth. And give me the other half of my Blade-Lance. I'll be along in a moment." With a once more morbidly amusing sight, the boy pries the leftward half of my Blade-Lance from my unresponsive fingers, stabbing it into the ground for me to connect it with ease, and sprints to assist the team of five, increasing it to six.

As I look on at the boy, who valiantly dashes into the fray, I reconnect the other half of my Blade-Lance , I can't help but wonder what future he came from. The thought causes a burning feeling in my stomach. Instead of thinking any further on the matter, I begin to wonder how the rest of them would react to the "girl" who just joined us. I also wonder as to whether or not "she" will join us until later. Marth doesn't join until much later, something I know for a fact. I guess I'll accept whatever this storyline decides to create, considering this is the last run-through.

I tear my linked Blade-Lance out of the ground, causing a few chunks of dirt to fly up with it. I still have about a minute until my wound causes me to black out. During that time, I need to get to Lissa and use her Heal staff. If I don't, I will most likely black out for a time long enough for me to lose the ability to reconnect my arm, considering that Lissa doesn't yet know how to do it. Note to self, remember to teach Lissa how simple such an act really is. I sideline the agenda and dash into combat.

However does one describe the difficulty of using a connected Blade-Lance with a single hand? Well, here is one attempt. At most times, it's like trying to use any type of normal lance. However, you always have to worry about the fact that there's a killing edge on both sides surrounding the place where you hold. As such, it's notably more so difficult to work in a formation if you try to use it as a double-sided sword and not as a lance. With using a connected Blade-Lance with a single hand as a double-sided sword, all in all, it's more so about maintaining energy and letting momentum flow rather than-

"Chalysane!" I'm distracted for a moment, which is just enough time for an enemy that I had overlooked intentionally to get in a strike that he wouldn't have been able to otherwise. Quick movement prevents any serious damage from the attack, but I'm thrown back to the ground regardless. As I look up towards an axe closing in on my face, I roll to the left, causing the pain from my wound to flare up. Using the Blade-Lance, I prop myself up, after which I disconnect the second half once more. I've had enough of trying to do this. It's much easier to just fight with one half.

A horizontal slash: Break the axe. A vertical slash: Halve its arm. A diagonal slash: Throw him to the ground, a slice in his flesh. A jump, and a downward horizontal slash. Remove its head. Momentum Counter: Deflect the spear. Follow through the thrust, reversal, overhead slash. Style switch, Backhand horizontal. Style switch, normalized counter-slash. Follow through spin. "Chalysane!" Who the curse keeps calling my name?! Finish the slash, suddenly dizzy. Fall to my knees. Try to overcome the sleepiness. I look up at Lissa. Most likely, it was her, and she just realized what happened. Apparently, I'm lying on the ground.

"Arm, please." The boy runs over to me, my arm in hand. Once more, I can't help but think it would be a comical sight if it weren't real. Chrom, Frederick, and Marth are still fighting, and Sully and Virion are just about to arrive. I'm too physically shocked to continue on, however. A few moments until I black out, and I still need to retach the arm. Retach…? Isn't it reattach? Focus…

I take the arm into hand, and I once more stifle a laugh. Why am I finding this so hilarious when it's so blatantly inappropriate to laugh at the situation!?. "Remove the sections of your coat. After that, go help your friend." The boy quickly removes the now-bloody sections of the coat, and the bleeding and the pain spike into existence once more. I find myself quickly growing faint as the boy runs off, most likely struggling to prevent himself from looking back. "Now Lissa… Listen and learn. Give me your staff and put my severed arm to my wound. Maneuver it so that it looks… right." I can only hope Lissa understands what I mean, as the pain quickly dulls my senses as it works in conjunction with the blood loss.

"Reattaching a limb is… Overall, simple in theory. It seems hard, but it… really isn't." I concentrate my focus on the heal staff as I try to explain. "These staves work in layers, so to speak. At least, that's the way I see it. I'm… probably wrong." That's the way it's always felt for me. Layers upon layers of mana counter and overlapping to form a cloth of energy that accelerates the healing process. "You start at the center of the bone, repair the nerves… And you work from there." A growing circle of energy. It hurts to me, it itches to some, it feels pleasurable to others. Everyone is different, as I've experienced. The bone and basic nerve reconnections are finished. The hardest and most important part of the operation. Now it's just a matter of healing… the…

* * *

"Chalysane?" I force my eyes back open. Lissa is kneeling over me, her heal staff in hand. It seems I blacked out for a moment, thought the moment is likely to be a few minutes. "I'm here." Lissa breaths a heavy sigh of relief as she continues to work on undoing the damage to my arm. Considering I woke up relatively quickly, though, Lissa must have continued my work in my stead when I blacked out. "You stopped breathing there for a moment." I try to laugh, but it seems I'm too out of breath to do so. "And then I woke up… What is the world coming to?" She attempts to put on a smile, but her worry is far too apparent. I lift up my good arm and tap her head. "Relax. You're doing fine."

I glance over at my fingers and I attempt to flex the tendons, to which I receive a good, albeit miniscule response. "See? I can move my fingers again." This time, her worried smile, emphasis on the reiterated worried, feels much more sincere. "It's cause of what you told me. I'm trying, but I'm not good." I put on a slighted smile. "You're the only person other than me that can do it. You're doing great." Relief crosses and conquers her expression and her technique improves considerably as her focus improves. The best healers work in precision, not bulk, and they start from the deepest part of the wound and work outwards, controlling the mana of the staff so as to prevent too much from flowing at once. Amateur healers, focus on channeling as much mana into the wound as possible as to prevent time-based damage. However, doing this results in an incomplete heal, as some mana doesn't reach some areas because the paths leading to the afflicted areas have already been closed.

I turn my eyes and ears, if not my head, to the conversation that seems to be taking place between Chrom and Marth. "I'm not here to talk about me." I choose this moment to chime in, and with a question relatively relevant to the subject. "Then explain this. Why were there five of those portal-things? The first makes sense. If you had a separate one for yourself, that's understandable. Explain the other three." Marth glances over at me. Though, with his mask on, I can't exactly see the emotion in his eyes, I can't help but feel that he's staring harshly at me. "I can't. There was only supposed to be one: Ours. As for the other four…" He gestures to my recently reconnected arm. "You can thank the one who did that for those."

He sighs darkly, so to speak. "I came here prepared to say that this world teeters at the brink of a horrible calamity and that tonight was a prelude. But… After what I just saw here tonight…" He grits his teeth at his thought. "I think that we may be far worse off than I thought." He shook his head, clearing his doubt. "But no matter. You have been warned. Keep your eyes open." And so the pair, Marth and the boy who got blown through a tree, turns and starts to walk away, side by side.

However I had yet to learn the boy's name, and I never planned on letting this chance escape, no matter the circumstance. "Marth… What's your friend's name?" They both pause for a moment, at which point Marth glances at the boy. A few exchanged, inaudible whispers, before the boy says it in his previously described, inexperienced ear-decieving voice. "Avelea." Even his name is a cause for doubt. It almost sounds like the name of a flower. I can't help but smile at the interesting confusion it may cause later on. He truly would be worse off than a certain war monk. I really need to avoid touching upon that tangent, lest it start to get boring.

"Luck be to you, then, Marth, Avelea. May we meet again." Avelea nods and turns his attention to Marth. After a moment's worth of eye contact, they both turn forwards and begin walking. After a few seconds consideration, I call out after them. "Avelea! Remind me to replace your coat!" He raises a hand in response, but says nothing. "A boy named after the hero-king of old, and girl with a foreign name… They're an interesting pair." The non-chalance in Chrom's voice offsets the seriousness of the situation.

"They're not much for conversation, are they?" Robin chooses then to voice her scripted response, to which Frederick replies with his. "Maybe not… But they seem to have their reasons. I wager we'll hear their names again." Frederick glances around the flames of the forest as they slowly begin to die out. As to how they seem to be dying, I'm not quite sure, as I've never seen the fires in this forest go out so easily. "As for now, let us make haste. I'm more concerned about the capital." Close to scripture, but not exact. Then again, nothing ever really is exact. Nothing is ever certain. That's one thing I've learned, and one thing that I'll always take note to remember.

Besides. There's still a small army of Risen standing in between us and the capital. Considering the note that there may be more than four times the amount of Risen as any of my previous ventures… I can readily believe that I should, for once, worry about the Capital. "I agree with Frederick." I can't help but wonder why I couldn't keep up with the assailant. I know I could have blocked the strike, but his blade had passed through my arm before I even realized it.

"On another note, we should get actual treatment for Chalysane's arm, and not just her attempts at using a heal stave for something so complex such as limb reattachment." I can't help but sigh at Frederick's naivety. If only I hadn't blacked out and if only he could have seen me working. "Oh, Frederick…" He glances at me, expecting a sharp response. "Thanks for caring about me." I put on my best smile, much to his surprise, and much to Virion's contentment. "Five heaven-sent maidens tonight… I wonder, have the gods finally chosen to favor me?" Sully lands a solid kick to the poor man's stomach. "Dream on, Ruffles."

We travel for a few hours in the night. At least I do. At the beginning of the traveling, Frederick offered me his horse, considering that I "shouldn't expend energy to walk considering that I'm injured." However, I denied him, while silently taking into account his offer. The main reason I denied his offer was because I felt that it would be unfair to Lissa. An idiotic reason, I agree, but sometimes idiocy can lead to positive things. Such was not the case for the night. After a said few hours, I feel a wave of dizziness cross over me, one which Sully easily observes. "It's one thing to be strong, Chally, but it's another to be stupid. Get on the horse." She jumps off her own horse, considering that Frederick had already walked far ahead of the column, an stares at me expectantly. I finally concede, and I easily mount the horse.

"Now give me that darn weapon. You won't be fighting 'till your arm's healed." I nod once more and concede, using both my good and and, recklessly enough, my left arm to draw both halves of the weapon from their sheaths on my back and connect them. Understand the situation, Sully quickly switches to the right side of the horse, and allows me to use my good arm to handle the full weight of the weapon until she can unburden me from it. When she does it, however, she gives the weapon the funniest look. "These are heavier than two silver swords. And you looked like you were wielding them like Braves." She then grins at the weapon before turning her satisfied expression to me. "I'd like to spar with you when you're better."

However, I'm already half asleep, and the condition must be already apparent on my face, even as I look at Sully. "Chally... Just go to sleep. I'll ask ya again when you're awake." I silently muse over her words, before they catch up to me, and I respond. "I'd be glad to spar with you... Though I'll lose..." I close my eyes and allow my head to fall to my chest. I've slept in the saddle before, and I never fell off. If I do this time, however, I doubt I'll wake up. I'll be too far gone into sleep to notice.

* * *

**_Author's note:_**

_Wahaha! I've been writing at this for five hours straight! Why am I doing this!? xD Because it's fun and crazy and I can't think straight, and being half asleep while writing is fun, and also while playing games. Hey! Guess what! It's Four in the morning! I love being like this: I can't think straight, I'm half asleep, I can't focus, but, at the same time, I'm completely sentient. I love talking to peoples :3 Especially if I let myself go, so to speak. I stop thinking or worrying about life and have fun with everything and anything and it makes me so happy, happier than I ever am when I think straight and focus! This sentence probably hurts your eyes xP It's a paragraph! Not a sentence!_

**Post-Author's note:** ((The one I wrote when I'm 100% more sentient _))

**So I went to post this an hour ago. But then I decided that I'd give it a quick look to catch any mistakes I might have made while half-asleep last night. And, I must say. I'm glad I did. I rewrote the entire ending of the chapter, and I feel it makes more sense. And I'm leaving the other Author's note for reference as to how I am when I'm half awake. Nothing makes sense, nor relates to the story. Except for the time. Whatever~**

**Seriously, though, I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Chronic~ See you in the next chapter~! ^.^**


	5. Chapter 5 - Final Arc's Pathways

Chapter 5 – Final Arc's Pathways

Walking through the streets of Ylisstol like this has always been painful. Well, not always, but one can probably assume when it started being painful. Each timeline, forced to see the same pattern of faces, hearing the same voices, as they go about doing their same daily tasks. The same that they've done in each previous timeline. I think I started noticing the sameness during my fourth run-through.

Of course, not everything is the same during this timeline. For example, Robin seems to be under much less suspicion from Frederick, considering that most of such is now directed towards me. My personal suspicions as to the reason for this turnout aim directly towards the fact that she asked me why she could only remember Chrom's name, and not even her own at first. As for the suspicion directed at me, the reason for such is obvious enough that I don't need to think about it for more than half a second: I acted rashly when I woke up, panicked and not calm. Simple as that.

"So this is the Ylisstol that you've been telling me about… There's more people here than I ever expected." The wonder is apparent in her voice, as if it weren't already apparent in the fact that she looks around everywhere. It reminds me of the first time I came here. Everything new and exciting. I must have seemed like a tourist, relating the things I imagined about Ylisstol to the unfortunate characters of the first timeline. Of course, that's changed, considering everything is now familiar to me. "And it seems it was spared the chaos we encountered, nor do I see any evidence of the quake. Thank the gods..." Though Frederick may say so, I know for a fact that, considering the numbers of this timeline's Risen army, it may not be for long.

After the night during which the Risen first appeared, I had essentially monopolized Lissa's heal staff while I worked to heal whatever damage I still could. Lissa's work, though admirable, made it difficult to completely repair all of the remaining damage, and the result was a thin scar that would remain until I could find and use a higher-strengthed stave. Speaking of more powerful staves, they work by automatically focusing their more powerful energy reserves to where the wounded body needs it the most. Of course, it expends energy in the process of doing so, which results in the lower amount of uses. Another thing that lowers the amount of uses is the actual quality of the healing mana itself. Due to its purity and lacking of dilution, when one uses said staff, more overall healing mana is being used than in the less powerful staves.

Despite my tendencies to go off on tangents, however, my worries yet remain. Especially to the person who was able to slash through my armor, which is actually quite strong despite looking as though it would be used by a Pegasus Knight, as if it were nothing and suddenly disappear by "jumping". Another thing that worries me is to how the person named Avelea came to be. However, the latter could never worry me as the former does, and more so fascinates me than anything.

As I see the approaching Exalt, accompanied by a chorus of voices heralding her arrival, I suddenly notice another emotion amidst and suddenly quelling the pain. Oddly enough, it's relief. As the quartet of others run through a variant of their script, I keep my silence and instead address the unusual emotion. It wasn't pain I felt earlier, it was worry. And the relief I feel now is akin to that when one finally returns home after a long journey. As to why I feel either of those, I can't know.

I had never before felt either of them upon entering Ylisstol, even when I had been returning after we had won the war against Plegia. More so specifically, after defeating Gangrel. But either way, relief had always been a foreign subject to me. As for the worry, I can only assume that the cause of such was a worry that something had already gone wrong. However, considering that nothing had ever changed, I don't know why I would feel such. "Wait, what? She's your…" And that line heralds the start of that section of the conversation.

"But wouldn't that make you and Chrom…" And then I decide to steal Frederick's line and replace it with my own variation. "The prince and princess of this country. Amnesia's funny, isn't it?" Robin turns to me, her surprise and social unbalance due to an unintentional faux pas apparent on her face. "But they said they were-" I laugh before she can finish her sentence and proceed to steal Chrom's line. "The shepherds of their people, protecting them from the wolves that threaten to attack and sometimes do attack day by day." Personally, I like my variations of their lines. They may be one of my finest, considering a few failed previous attempts. I do believe I was only ever able to succeed once in stealing both of their lines successfully, not including this time.

I fall back into my silence, allowing the quartet to finish their dialogues without any further interference from me. Then again, the interference never changed much, as it only ever came up during the non-static parts of the timelines. However, as we start to walk to the palace where we'll introduce both myself and Robin to Emmeryn, I notice Robin suddenly glance back at me before returning her gazes forwards. That may be one of the most different things about this timeline: the fact that Robin seems to be far more interested in me than ever. As to the reasoning of such, I'm confident I'll be enlightened later. I'm also confident that I'll be glad that I never cared much about learning why.

The palace is just as extravagant as ever, and, as always, I'm tempted to ask as to the reasoning of all the extra space. Before I ask, though, I always remind myself of the answer I was given during my third pass through the palace, even if I don't necessarily enjoy the answer or believe its bases. "Welcome home, Chrom, Lissa. And thank you for your continuous effort, Frederick." A simple nod from Frederick as Emmeryn continues her greeting. "How fared your travels?"

Chrom casually lays a hand on Falchion, to which no one reacts except for my mind, considering that putting his hand on the pommel of Falchion is a unique action in the situation in comparison to the previous timelines. "Something of a bandit coalition raided Southtown, essentially destroying the place. I'm confident that most, if not all, of the townspeople are safe, though." A focused look crosses Emmeryn's face. "How many bandits were there, if you say coalition?" I answer the question silently as Chrom answers vocally. From my memory, it was somewhere in between forty and fifty, and most likely leaning towards the latter. "At least forty. And, by their accents, they seemed to be Plegian."

Phila's distress is utterly apparent whilst I mask mine perfectly. I've faced larger numbers before, and the main point at which I'll start to worry is if the later armies we fight are multiplied as well. As for now, however, I've naught to worry about. "Forty from Plegia? We should have noticed, if not intercepted them… My sincerest apologies for this mishap." Chrom doesn't speak this time, but I can vaguely sense that he wishes he could sincerely say that there was nothing to worry about. As for me, I simply wish I could say that the large force was His fault, but no one knows about Him, and no one would believe me if I told them what Chronic could do.

Lissa, however, easily picks up the slack with her positivity, something that I'll ever be silently thankful for. "Don't worry, Phila! We had plenty of help!" I've always stood in the back of the procession that meets Emmeryn, so Phila tends not to notice me, especially considering how quiet I can be sometimes. However, considering how observant Emmeryn is, I've never been able to avoid being noticed by her. "Ah, you speak of your new companions here?"

Chrom first gestures to Robin as he introduces her. During my first two passthroughs of this scene, my heart pounded with excited anticipation that I was about to be introduced to Emmeryn, and especially during my first passthrough. During my first, the only thing I could think of was that I was actually meeting Emmeryn, and that I, as a person, was actually being introduced to someone else by Chrom. During that moment, I felt for the first time that_ I actually existed in this world_. During my second, I wondered why I was so excited if I had already been through this before. After that, the anticipation I felt when meeting people for the first time slowly but surely melted away to nothing. I had been through everything before, and I would go through them again. Excepting this final timeline, of course, but such is a given, and it wouldn't change the fact that I've been through it before.

"This is Robin. We found her fighting against the brigands when most of the townspeople had already fled, and she fought bravely with us after we had rescued her. I've decided to make her a Sheperd." The smile that crosses Emmeryn's face is just as calming as I had always remembered it. "It sounds as though Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Robin." And Robin's social unbalancing is just as amusing as ever. "Not at all, milady!"

Frederick, for once, speaks in her favor. "Though she plays humble, I must make note that she overly downplays her achievements. She is clearly a talented tactician, and she essentially saved our lives during the conflict. And, also as I must note, she acted even without any prior knowledge as to who we are, as she also suffers from amnesia." As Emmeryn once more speaks to Robin after Frederick elaborates on the matter, I happily admit how refreshing it is to see Frederick speaking in her favor instead of speaking against her. Even though it means that I am now the target of his suspicion, I'm actually somewhat glad that things played out this way.

"And who is the other who stands at your back?" In prior timelines, she had always said something along the lines of, "And who is the other?" As I step forwards to make my own introduction, I take into account her unique phrasing of reference. "My name is Chalysane, milady." As an unreadable expression flashes almost invisibly across her face, Chrom takes up my introduction. "Chalysane also fought with us at Southtown, and was the person to readily, not to mention easily, save Robin. She seems to know much more than she lets on, and I can concur with Frederick's suspicion of her on that manner." At this, I suddenly feel Frederick's eyes drilling into me.

Emmeryn closes her eyes momentarily before asking a question. "You said her name is Chalysane, correct?" My heart pounds with sudden surprise as Emmeryn suddenly makes a complete break from the storyline that I'm used to. Chrom answers her question with hesitant curiosity apparent in his voice. "Yes… Do you recognize the name?" Emmeryn slowly blinks her eyes as her expression quickly and gradually takes on a serious tone. "Frederick, would you describe the weapon that she uses?" My heart aches in its newly-found anticipation at the terrifying change in storyline, considering that Emmeryn is definitely not supposed to recognize my name.

Frederick steps forward as I step back, his professionalism shining through in his way of standing. "Her weapon is an unusual combination of two swords, which are connectable at the pommels. I have never seen a weapon like it." The seriousness in Emmeryn's face softens back to its normal expression. "I do recognize her, then." The sudden burst of pressure that I feel stemming most likely from my unexpected terror sends a wave of dizziness crashing over me. Emmeryn turns her eyes back to me, and I instinctively step back forwards as Frederick steps back. Emmeryn speaks once more. "Though I should also mention that I'm glad that you're you and not another person, considering the time from when I recognize your name."

My mind races as I make desperate attempts as to where I might have encountered her before. However, the only answer I receive places me in differing timelines. If Emmeryn remembers me, and she had only ever seen me in different timelines, during which her memory was greatly damaged, if not destroyed, then why wouldn't Chrom or Robin? I had fought alongside them more than anyone else. Then again, Emmeryn had displayed amazing abilities to remember even the vaguest of information. My thought processes are suddenly ceased by Emmeryn speaking once more.

"Chrom, Chalysane is someone that can be trusted. It would be in your favor to make her a Shepherd if she wishes to become one." Emmeryn, how dare you be so vague. Why can't you say a little bit more so that I can actually learn where you know me from!? Focus, focus… Frederick is speaking again. "Not to question your judgement, milady, but where do you know Chalysane from? We know almost nothing of her. Considering how we came across her, we cannot rule out the possibility that she aims to assassinate Chrom, Lissa, or even you." Considering where Frederick's suspicion is directed, I'm actually quite thankful for it. It is a very well-based argument to convince Emmeryn to reveal where she knows me from.

However, judging from the unbroken smile on Emmeryn's face, she either seems confident she can counter him, or she is amused by the situation. "Chalysane is an old friend of mine." And suddenly, I'm an old friend of the Exalt. How is my only question. "She's somewhat amnesiatic due to her previous work, but you'll find that she yet retains some of her memory." Frederick surrenders his cause in response to Emmeryn's counter, much to my lack of surprise, considering that this is Emmeryn that we're talking about. One would always do well to trust her.

Little does Emmeryn know, however, that her own counter opened up a counter for myself. "So sorry, Milady, but would you perchance remind me of who I am, then? You seem to recall me, but I don't recall you, nor any of this previous work you speak of." This can't be that easy to deflect. She just said herself that I'm amnesiatic due to my previous work, and it would be cruel to leave me in the dark. And, if there's one thing Emmeryn's not, it's cruel.

Thankfully, my counter succeeded where Frederick's did not, and Emmeryn concedes via a nod. "I shall tell you, then, in a more private situation." Something that you do not wish to discuss with the four here, but you still speak to me with a smile? What exactly is the past that I suddenly have in this timeline? "Nonetheless, thank you for your prudence, Frederick. " However, the dialogue cuts out from there, Frederick responding with a simple nod, and returns when Frederick speaks to Phila. "Phila, I assume you've heard about the deathly creatures we encountered, yes?"

Phila responds with a similar nod. "Yes, milord. They've been sighted all across Ylisse." Once more I can't help but question the dialogue here. Right after "yes" is the word "milord." During the first few timelines, I never noticed the honorific. However, after I finally noticed it, I couldn't help but wonder as to why she said it. I could only assume that it was because he was the personal guardian of Chrom and Lissa, and, as such, was of a technical higher rank and station due to such. But such is a sidenote as Emmeryn speaks her piece. "Chrom, we are about to hold council. I was hoping you could join us." Chrom's response is as uniform as I had always seen and heard it. "Of course."

Lissa quickly moves to Robin's side, grasping the edge of her coat. "That's our cue, Robin! C'mon, there's a place I want to show you." As always, I turn to follow the pair to where the Shepherd's garrison will always be. Once more, I shall be meeting faces I've already met before. Repeated dialogue that changes ever so slightly each and every time. "Actually, Chalysane. I would request you join us as well." I stop mid-pace. Me, in the council? Who am I, exactly, in this timeline?

I answer in the affirmative nonetheless. ". . . Of course, Milady." A hint of sadness crosses her face. "You really have forgotten, haven't you?" As she says those words, however, a dash of heartache crosses through my chest. As if there were actually something that I was supposed to remember, but forgot against my will. I nod, after which I walk over to and follow Chrom and Emmeryn as they walk to the council. I hadn't felt pain like this since I visited Ricken's grave during the two year's break between the war on Plegia and the war against the Valmese country during the first arc. Even now, knowing that he's alive once more, I can't get his dying expression out of my head. Coughing up blood which flowed from his mouth, struggling to breathe, even as he slowly drowned in his own blood due to a spear through the chest, his eyes begging for me to save him even as I cried out for Lissa, who would couldn't reach him for being on the other side of the battlefield, crying I'm sorry as the light slowly left his shining-

"Chalysane?" I suddenly blink and pull myself out from the memories. They had stopped walking in front of me, and I suddenly stop in response, confused. I ask them the obvious question. "Is there something wrong?" Chrom glances down at the ground before turning his eyes back to me. "You're crying." I suddenly notice the tickling of water on my cheeks and the soreness of my eyes, and I rush my gloved hand to my face to dry the tears. "S-sorry… Please continue." Chrom opens his mouth once more, probably to question me, but Emmeryn's hand on his shoulder stops him. We continue walking.

It hurt. It hurt so much. I was so helpless. He wasn't the first person to die, and he certainly wasn't the last. But he was the first person to die under my care. I turned my watchful eye away from him for but a moment to send an enemy Hero class to the ground, and he was... After that, I learned how to use staves. And, even though I wasn't a natural, I slowly but surely became a master of masters with them over the course of several timelines. I created methods of using staves that were previously unimaginable, and I discovered how and why the more powerful staves had a higher healing capability at the cost of usage amount. Despite my efforts, though, and no matter how many times I saved others from deaths that should have been impossible to prevent…

I pinched the area between my eyes, an effort to remove the slowly building headache, and ceasing the thought process as a side-effect. I'm tired, but there's no yawn to signify physical exhaustion. I allow myself a silent sigh. Apparently, though, Emmeryn can hear even those. "Remembered something?" Considering she's still facing forwards, I doubt a nod would work this time. "Yeah." A moment's worth of silence. She continues. "Who was it?" An answer. "A boy…" Silence once more. Chrom seems unnerved by this, though he doesn't vocalize his discomfort. "It wasn't your fault." I'd been told the same thing countless times, each time with plausible and sensible arguments. However, hearing it from Emmeryn, even if she doesn't give any reasons as to her belief, I can't help but believe it, if only partially.

A few minutes pass, after which we arrive at a door at which we stop. I can readily assume that this is the door to the council room. "You need only listen, Chalysane. You need not speak, but it is your choice. Then again, I remember that you used to be quiet, especially during your previous work." After her words to me, Emmeryn motions for Chrom to open the door, which he does readily.

At the far side of the council room exists two unoccupied seats. Moments after the door opened, however, and we are seen, a third seat is vacated, its previous occupant having moved to another open seat nearer the entrance. As for the occupant who sat directly right of where Emmeryn would sit, he stands and bows his head at our entrance. "Lady Emmeryn, Sir Chrom, Captain Chalysane." I blink at the title attached to my name, but I allow no physical reaction. Emmeryn, however, handles the situation. "There is no need to address her as Captain, considering her condition. Though, it is your choice nonetheless."

The lord, as I might assume his status to be, nods at Emmeryn's words and sits down. "It's a pleasure to have you back nonetheless, Chalysane. Once more, thank you for your efforts back then." Emmeryn laughs ever-so-softly at his continued reverence. "You disregard the fact that she doesn't remember anything from that time?" A smile crosses his face as he sits down, continuing to speak, though less formally. "She's still the person she is, and her past hasn't changed from what I recall. Though she might not remember, I still respect her for it." Emmeryn takes her seat casually, Chrom to her left, and I to Chrom's left. "Just remember that there were others with Chalysane's likeness of mind, if not of skill." The lord nods, clearly taking into account words that Emmeryn has said before. "As for now, let us speak of the new threat. While Plegia is still as aggressive as ever, and even more so according to recent reports, we still need to…"

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Hello again. This is me, once more staying up at random times to write stuffs. I hope these last Four paragraphs are up to par. I feel as if I need to do something to them to make them better. Probably when I wake back up I'll know what to fix. As for now, This is your writer, logging off to sleep.**

**Reading this over after waking back up, there are a few good paragraphs, and there is one truly great paragraph in this chapter. At least, that's the way I see this. As for the last four paragraphs, I'm currently finding that they're actually generally acceptable. I hope you enjoyed this chapter~ ^.^**

**And after reading it through, two hours later, I added in two paragraphs near the front to compensate for the lacking of speaking of events that occurred in the previous chapter. Now it _doesn't _seem as if everyone forgot about Chalysane's temporary loss of limb!... I don't even know anymore xD**


	6. Chapter 6 - For a Moment

Chapter 6 – For a Moment

Lord Terney is his name. The person sitting to Emmeryn's right. Apparently, judging from the fact that he brings up the subjects of discussion and how everyone listens when he has something to say, he leads these council meetings. Emmeryn, on the other hand tends to simply sit in and offer advice and her opinion, much like a mediator. Amusingly enough, her advice and opinions seem to be more like decrees considering how the council reacts to them. Within the timespan of what seems to be a few minutes, it's already decided that Chrom shall go to Regna Ferox in Emmeryn's stead to request support against the Risen, as they've finally named them. The name is Risen because of the fact that they seem to have risen from their graves. Zombies are what I might have called them in a time long-past, but said term is a foreign one to them.

Chrom raises his hand, calling attention to himself. "And about the Plegians specifically. They recently sent a force forty large against us. How do we react to that? It's obviously an act of war, and we don't have the resources for one." Lord Terney answers as if he were already expecting the question. "Such has been an existing reason for our desire for support from Ferox. We mean simply to deter any desire for war on Plegia's part, not to ignite it." Silence momentarily resumes

At this point, attention suddenly directs itself to Lady Eirza, her method of calling said attention relatively invisible to me, as she sits near the door. She was the one who moved from her seat in order to allow me to take one. "And as for Captain Chalysane? If she were present, wouldn't a misunderstanding become more likely?" A hint of distress crosses Terney's face. "It has already been stated that Chalysane does not remember anything from that time. I'm confident that-" Eirza silences Terney with a sharp glare. "I doubt the Plegians would believe that. Ferox might accept it, considering our alliance, but Plegia would never see it for what it is."

As Eirza finishes her sentence, Emmeryn ceases the contained dispute with a raising of her hand, after which she turns her attention to Chrom. "Chrom, if you would go and prepare yourself and the Shepherds… And take Chalysane with you." An understanding nod from Chrom, and he rises from his seat, after which I quickly follow, quite willing to leave the suddenly hostile environment. Eirza speaks up before we exit the room. "Have you nothing to say, Captain Chalysane?"

I stop my movement and turn my head, specifically towards Emmeryn, but not towards Eirza. I was given the choice to speak or not to speak, but Emmeryn clearly relayed it to me that it was best if I stayed silent. As I expected, Emmeryn speaks in my stead. "Lady Eirza, you know that Chalysane never wished to be involved. Though she may be a captain for what she did, it isn't right to blame her for it." She pauses for a moment to take a breath. "Besides… I'm confident that very few would be looking for her." Eirza concedes with an unsatisfied nod, and Chrom exits the room with me in tow.

The walk is silent, as I already know where we are headed. Chrom glances over his shoulders a couple of times, probably wondering who I was exactly. I wonder the same thing. The only past I have in this world, or, at least, the only past I should have, is the past that no one remembers but me. There **_is_** no other past. I simply do not exist prior to the moment that I wake up in a timeline. To think otherwise is… wrong. It's just wrong. Prior to the first timeline, I…

And, just as always, there's nothing there to remember. Nothing but a terrible pain of a memory that a memory should be there, but isn't. A terrible heartache, fear, rage, anger, helplessness, and surrender. Why I would ever surrender to anything, I don't know. The emotion exists there nonetheless. Other than emotions, however, the spot is a void where a memory should be. And it hurts. I close my eyes and focus on the sound of our footsteps in an attempt to drown out the pain.

As we walk, I gradually notice a sudden absence of a sound that should be there. I realize that's the absence of sound was, specifically, the sound of a second pair of footsteps, and I stop walking inches before running into Chrom, who turns his head to see me almost run into him. "S-sorry…" An old personality quirk of mine pops back up before I can stop it, and I look down at the ground.

Despite my confidence in my ability today, I had, at one point, been unnervingly timid. Every once in a while, if I'm not careful about my mental state, I sometimes revert back to this state. I can only assume that I was similarly timid before coming into this world. I quickly recover from my mental unbalancing and bring my gaze back up, expecting to meet his confused expression. However, Chrom has already turned his view back forwards, speaking to me without looking at me directly. "I have never seen you less threatening than you looked just now." Before I can stop myself, I instinctively apologize, another result of said old personality quirk of mine. "Sorry."

Chrom waves off the apology with an accompanying wave of his hand. "It's not exactly negative. But…" He sighs an interesting type of sigh, one that speaks of thoughtful consideration. "It makes me wonder who you used to be." I allow myself a soft laugh as I relate to his comment. "I wonder what I did as well." He glances back at me before turning his view back forwards and responding. "No, it's not what you did. I mean, who you were as a person before you became a Captain. You definitely weren't so..." Silence resumes. I know for a fact that he can't exactly word what he wants to correctly. Sadly enough, I don't know what he means to say either.

"No matter what your past was, I'm glad to have you with us." Chrom continues to face forward as he speaks, never looking me in the eye. I can't help but wonder why. Though, then again, it may also be for effect. "Though I might concur with Frederick's suspicion, I know you mean well. You seem like one who would be more willing to risk her own life to save and protect one instead of assassinating and ending one." He quietly chuckles. "You did continue to fight while your arm was cut off…" He sighs and shivers. "Don't do that again. It's reckless, and it probably scared the others. It unnerved me." He shakes his head at the memory. "I would hate to be your enemy."

I can't help but allow a smile to cross my face, even as I note that his relatively positive comment became relatively negative towards the end. Silence presides over the air dividing us as we approach the garrison, until I break it with a question. "Sully called you captain, if I recall correctly. How did you earn that rank?" Chrom responds with something akin to a shrug as he prepares to enter the building. "They call me Captain. I don't think I was ever given the rank, though I think it may have been Stahl that first started doing it…" It seems he doesn't remember I was already out when Sully arrived. Then again, maybe I wasn't completely out.

As Chrom walks through the door, with me close behind, I can't help but suspect that it may have been Sully that started the trend. It's just the vaguest of feelings, but it seems to make sense. "Captain! You've returned! I was- I mean, we-" She starts to step forwards, and her first step lands on a slip of paper. That papers immediately begin to move before she can begin to notice. And, if I move correctly as to slip past Chrom… "-were so-" Cue the trip, and, once more, despite my unusual starting position, I've successfully put myself between her and the ground. She's just as light as I remember her, specifically as I remember from pulling her off Caeda during the previous timeline.

Throughout many situations in which Sumia has tripped, I have slowly deduced that it isn't merely just clumsiness that causes her to trip. It's more so a simple case of failure to notice things that people normally wouldn't notice. Throughout those same situations, however, I've also gained the ability to notice the reasons why Sumia would trip, and the ability to move fast enough to prevent her from face planting. Ironically enough, this type of "training" has also helped me decrease my reaction time, not to mention helping me to somewhat predict how people might move based on their footing.

Her face takes on a wonderfully interesting shade of red, one that I hadn't been expecting. "O-oh! I- I'm- I mean, I'm sorry and thank you an-" I step back behind Chrom as Sumia stumbles upon her words in her utter surprise. Chrom glances back at me, both surprised and amused. "That's the first time that I've seen someone stop Sumia from tripping. Or at least falling to the ground as a result." I nod, aware of the seemingly serious expression on my face.

However, in my thoughts, I almost cannot control my laughter. During the previous timelines, when I was standing behind or next to Sumia when Chrom entered, she would quietly give me thanks, clearly embarrassed and apologetic for her slip-up. During this timeline, taking into account her utter surprise and interesting shade of red, I have quite the reason to believe that she just thought that Chrom saved her. After a few moments of stuttering, Sumia reigns back in her words and falls to a silence as Chrom introduces me.

"And this would be our other new member, Chalysane. Apparently, she used to be a Captain, but being referred to as such apparently makes her uncomfortable. Also, considering her condition, I doubt she would like to have that kind of responsibility." I glance towards the ground as Vaike chuckles in an interesting way. "A captain that doesn't want to be a captain… First I've heard of it." Sumia breaks what I expected to be a longer silence. "T-thank you, Chalysane." I make eye contact with her and nod. Her face turns red once more, and she returns her vision to the ground. I prevent myself from smiling.

Chrom falls back upon the script. "All right, listen, everyone: in the morning, we'll be marching to Regna Ferox to request support against the new menace." Robin's eyes dash to me, a silent request to explain. For a moment, I'm caught off guard, considering that Robin had never done such a thing before, but I quickly recompose and respond. "Regna Ferox is a unified kingdom to the north. Considering that they pride on strength, Ylisse is lucky to have them as allies. And, as I might note, they are not barbarians. They simply have a different method of politics." I glance towards Sumia at this, and gauge her reaction. However, considering her face is still aimed towards the ground, as if she believes that she defied fate when her face didn't meet the ground, there isn't much to gauge other than her hair.

Chrom continues after my quick explanation, which he probably understands was directed at Robin. "Typically, the exalt would request such aid in person. However, considering the new menace, people might worry should my sister suddenly leave the capital. As such, we'll be acting in her stead." The seriousness in his expression drops as her prepares the next line. However, considering the differences in this timeline, I can't help but feel worried that someone might just refuse to go, not that I expect anyone to refuse.

Then again, stranger things have happened in this timeline… "Now, this mission is strictly voluntary. So if, for any-" "I volunteer!" And Lissa cuts off Chrom before he can speak any further. As does Vaike, who confidently claims that he would be suited for a delicate mission. Kellam also volunteers, but I doubt anyone else noticed him. Despite him saying, "I'll go as well," absolutely no one but me even glanced in his direction. His follow up words were probably directed entirely at me as well. It's almost depressing. As a side-note, I also feel that Kellam would be more qualified than Vaike.

"Yes, Sumia?" Chrom's words mark the beginning of that sequence. Should I intervene or not…? "It's just that… I'm not sure I'm quite ready for a proper mission just yet. I'd probab-" Yes, I should. I was a Captain, after all, and, from what I can assume, I probably wasn't the type to allow anyone to think lowly of themselves. Might as well try and act the part. "Sumia." She turns her eyes onto me as Chrom closes his mouth, expectant and curious as to what I'm about to say. "Confidence is equivalent to experience in its worth. Take this chance to gain some experience. I'm confident you'll do well." Three quietly spoken sentences.

Their concept is interestingly difficult to connect by normal logic. Experience truly does mean more than basic knowledge, but the confidence to use what you learn means just as much as experience. Even if it's just the confidence to use what you learn from reading a book or watching others. While experience teaches you the correct way to act, confidence gives one a reason to act. One without the other is useless. While true combat experience, experience gained from fighting an enemy that means to kill you, cannot be given, confidence can be. Sometimes, all that some people need to act is another's faith that they'll do well.

For a moment, all that can be heard is the rustling of trees from outside. Once upon a time, during a peacetime before a war against Valm, I sat underneath those trees during what I believe was this world's equivalent of spring. Crystalline blue flowers, the size of what could be cherry blossoms. The tea I sipped from a small cup was of a unique quality. Ricken and Maribelle had worked together to create this mix. It warmed the heart as one would feel when in love, or so I believe. The wind on that day rustled numerous petals from their previous owners. They fell to the ground as if they were snowflakes. For a moment, I had felt that everything in the world was all right. I'm reminded of that day, simply from hearing the wind rustle the leaves of the trees. Sumia opens her mouth to speak.

"I'll do my best to make you proud, Chalysane." There's a fiery passion in her eyes as she places an unspoken vow upon this sentence. I close my eyes and bow my head at her promise. I can already see the consequences of my words. Confidence is a two-edged sword. It is my responsibility to make sure that she doesn't suffer from the second edge. Chrom looks at me and nods, a sense of approval in his eyes. The seriousness that exists upon my face, however, doesn't break.

It is here that there exists no script, and we move into a non-static section of the timeline. "Chalysane, you'll be sleeping in Sumia's room for tonight. Robin, you'll be with Lissa and Maribelle. Take care not to injure yourselves. Dismissed." Last time, he simply said that we were free to go, just so long as we didn't do anything stupid. Not to mention that he never before specified where we were supposed to sleep. Last time, I went to the kitchen and found Stahl preparing something to eat. This time, I'll remind Kellam that he exists and go sit near the entrance. Maybe I'll sleep there again…

First things first. Kellam should be standing off to the left side, close to the wall. However, he isn't there. That's odd, I could have sworn… Oh wait. That's right. I tend to somehow reverse the wall directions. The left side wall is apparently… There he is, standing against the right side wall. A simple task of reminding Kellam that he exists. I walk over to him and touch him on the bridge of his nose. The most interesting expression of surprise crosses his face. Before he can recover from the fact that someone deliberately noticed him without any action on his part, I've already walked off.

And now I sit near the entrance of the garrison. In my opinion, the action had completely no point. Well, except for maybe practice. In a previous timeline, I took it specifically upon myself to increase my ability to be aware of Kellam. As I discovered, his ability to be unnoticeable seemed almost supernatural, as he literally was difficult to see and or hear at times. My method of training myself to notice him was literally to trust and believe he was there.

Trust and believe he was there. I must say, I received quite a plethora of injuries due to my sentiment. And then, one day he said to me, "Don't just stand there waiting to be killed!" When I heard those words, I stepped out of the way of an attack that was supposed to pierce through my stomach. As the enemy attempted to recover, he found himself impaled by the ghost that was Kellam. All at once, I realized that I was able to sense where Kellam was, even if I couldn't necessarily see him. As time went on, he gradually became more and more visible physically visible to me, which is what I had originally wanted. At the same time, my ability to sense where people were also gradually increased.

How many things, exactly, have I learned by living through all of these timelines? Confidence is just as important as experience, but it is possible to have too much confidence. As such, it should also be just as possible to have too much experience. Right? If you relive the same event, or events, over and over without much of any success, wouldn't you grow cold to it? And yet, when I woke up in this timeline, despite having been through these motions more than a dozen times, I found myself not completely dead inside.

I draw the two halves of my Blade-Lance, connect it, and hold in my right hand up in the glare of the sunlight. The edge glints, flashing as if swiping through the air, but the flash prolongs into a simple continuous ray. It's the same weapon that I've always known it to be, and, yet, something is different about it because I'm holding it in a new light. Instead of being a weapon used in cold-blooded killing, it shines as if it were a weapon created by the gods, destined to end the strife that threatens the world. Then again, the weapon for that destiny in this world is Falchion.

I see this world in a new light. Despite all that I've been through, I still realize that, though most of the parts haven't changed, the overall product as a whole has. Everything that I say and do will have an effect that will never be reversed. The same goes for Him. Whatever he does to alter this world will never be undone. The breaking of Chronic's hourglass marked the start of the final hour as the sand begins to run through its thin neck for the last time. The bottom of the hourglass broken away by the force of a blade, the sands of time shall be once more uncontainable, as those sands fall to the floor, never to be gathered up again.

I use my connected Blade-Lance to push myself up off the ground, after which I disconnect the two halves and resheath them. All in all, things are different, even if they are finally normal for once. (Interesting. Normal is different... Side note aside,) Every action would finally begin to truly matter instead of simply being a practice session. Which also means that it would probably be bad manners to simply ignore Sully's request for a sparring session. I toss a glance and a wave at Kellam as I walk off, who apparently didn't realize that I actually could see him.

* * *

Should I take down her horse as well, or just her? It would be right to spar as if I actually meant it, but would it be a good idea to possibly injure her horse? I know for a fact that riders always try to use the same horse for obvious reasons. As such, should I take the chance to- And I need to sidestep that strike. Gods, she's just as fast as ever. "C'mon, Chalysane. Stop holding back!" Is it just me or did everyone keep their strength and skill from the last timeline? I guess that compensates for the fact that- Gods, can't you even give me time to think-

"What the hell, Chalys?! This is supposed to be a spar, not a dodging game!" Okay, seriously, that's enough. I'll take you both down. There's the strike, dodge, slash with both practice swords at the horse's flank, and take-down! It's always an interesting sight when a horse hits the ground… But jeez, that looked like a bad fall. "Gods damn it…" Oh, she's getting up? Okay, then I'll walk over like this and- Okay, dodge the practice lance. "Not gonna be that easy, Chalys! You should have taken me down!" Yes, and not every rider has the ability to recover that quickly from being unhorsed.

"I still have the advantage." This is true. And I can't exactly connect these two practice swords at the hilt to create a balanced situation. Then again… "So you say." Oh, Sully's expression is _priceless_. It's a mix between calm rage and controlled confusion. She quickly scoffs at my supposed taunt. "We'll see about that…" And so she charges forwards and quickly thrusts her lance at me, an attack to the chest. Should that be a real lance, that could be a killing blow. An attempt at a critical hit.

Truthfully, what I do could potentially be easier with a Killing Edge, considering the weapon is one-edged. However, considering where her attack is aimed, a dodge would be most effective. But not today. Today, she faces a warrior that wields two swords at once, a warrior that can easily handle both blades at the same time. And while a dodge really would be more effective, I'll show her just how dangerous a simple thrust can be. Not that it would really matter, considering that I'm the only Blade-Lancer here.

Begin with one sword angled out where a swordmaster or a myrmidon would hold it, but hold it with one hand. The other sword should be in between you and your enemy, positioned at hip or waist height, with the holding hand a little bit behind you. Though there is a name for this form, you do not need to know it. Moving on, it is designed for use when the enemy's sword or lance comes at you in a thrust towards any part of your abdomen or head. Simply cross the right over your left, deflecting the thrust, and perform your own counter-thrust with your left. After that has been done, assuming you are not using a Killing Edge, you may now deliver a strike to the enemy's neck. This ends the sequence.

However, I do not deliver that final strike. Sully has already been knocked to the ground, even without the final strike. Though, as I might note, she continued standing in a vulnerable position long enough for me to do so if I had wanted to. After a few moments of relatively light breathing, considering, she stands up seemingly almost unaffected by the strike. "You hit hard. Even with your bad form." I let down my practice swords and shrug at her comment. I'm not exactly using my Blade-Lance, which means I'm definitely bound to be in "bad form" as she calls it. Besides I never use my full combat force unless I mean to kill someone, a harsh lesson I learned after a previous sparring match in a previous timeline. Not that anyone died, though, but there were people who were terrified. Something about breaking training weapons merely by swinging them. Side-note aside, this restraint, of course, results in bad form.

However, I could almost guarantee that she would call me on using bad form even if I did use my Blade-Lance. The attack patterns are quite unusual, and most would assume that one does not acquire maximum attacking power while using most of them. However, that's one of the traits of the Blade-Lance. Most attack patterns are actually designed for defense, counters and building momentum, not so much for damage output. However, there do exist several strike patterns for damage output.

"I'll challenge you again soon enough." And so she finally walks away. Finally. She had challenged me several previous times today. And she just kept getting back up. Sometimes, I forget just how resilient she is. Then again, it may be just because I wasn't exactly hitting vital points. I sigh. Personally, I do not look forward to fighting her again. She's much too forward for my tastes, though her dedication to cause is admirable. Then again, I'm happy she submitted. It's already dusk.

Chrom told me I'm sleeping in Sumia's room tonight. However, I've no interest in such. At least, not at the moment. I wish to leave Sumia to her thoughts about tomorrow. If I were to go to her room tonight, I may just unnerve her. Either that or she would ask questions. If I really wanted to, I could just take the time to actually think about what she would do, considering her, but I really don't want to. Not tonight. Tonight, I shall rest my head against the doorpost.

Kellam's gone. And, apparently, the sunlight is slowly fading as well. Pretty sure I saw Stahl at some point. And Ricken. Didn't see them long enough to make social contact. Just mere glances. Emmeryn didn't send summons for me, so I can assume that she plans to wait until later. Considering that we leave tomorrow morning, I half expected her to send someone to fetch me. Then again, maybe I really didn't. Maybe I was hoping that she wouldn't. Most likely because I don't want anything more to be different. However, I know what she said. She knows me.

Maybe that's what's getting me so tired. There are many things that have changed that aren't supposed to. I have a past that I'm apparently unaware of, and it's enough to make Lady Eirza worry about sending me. Why would the Plegians misunderstand just by having me sent along? Thinking about this is giving me a headache, even if I'm not thinking as much as usual. And it's making me tired too. Really tired. I don't think that'd I'd wake up even if something attacked-

Okay, that's stupid of me. Sleeping in the doorpost with a Risen infection four times the normal size? That's dangerous to both me and the garrison. Close the doors, and sleep somewhere appropriate, Chalys! And so I close the doors, enclosing me in the solemn darkness of the garrison building. I guess I'll go listen to Chrom's bunking assignment and sleep in Sumia's room. I know this building like I know my multiplication tables. I know it generally well, but not well enough to instantly have a map of the construct in my head at any moment's notice. No, I have to give it some thought before I can find my way. But it's still complete enough for me to navigate to…

A trio of knocks. There's light coming from underneath the door crack. The lights coming from the inside of these rooms and through the cracks may be the only light in the entire structure. I'm good with darkness, though. Then again, when Sumia opens the door, it may be a bit too- Yep. Just as I expected. That's bright. "Oh, Chalysane? I was wondering where you were… Come on in." Sumia has already removed her armor. It's not often, actually, that I got to see her without it. Then again, she probably has her reasons. She looks unusually fragile without it, as if she didn't seem fragile before.

There's a second bed, but I elect the floor. The ground of the floor is something I'm used to. During the previous timelines, in all truthfulness, Chrom had never actually given me a bunking assignment. He just said to sleep in the room of someone who had room, preferably not male, spoken to me and Robin after everyone else had been dismissed. I had constantly elected to sleep by the doorpost. No one complained, nor noticed, considering I woke up before anyone else. Excepting Frederick, at one point, at which I practically begged him not to tell anyone. He eventually told Chrom anyways, though, who eventually responded that it was my choice.

"Chalysane, you can use the bed." Sumia looks at me expectantly as she looks away from a book. Interesting. I hadn't seen her reading in any previous timeline. Then again, I guess that'll be the case for many things in this one. Maybe I should stop referring to previous timelines… Maybe, possibly. Now that Sumia's offered, I cannot refuse. I stand up once more, walk over to the bed, and lay down on it. I feel slightly engulfed by the cushions, and it's not much of a change from the floor. It might be hard to get up from this bed should an attack-

"And you should take off your armor, too." I sit up and look at her. It's obvious that she's trying to contain her amusement. But I consider her suggestion nonetheless. Now that she's suggested it, and considering that it would make sense, I am almost obligated to do so. If I don't, it may seem like I don't trust her or someone else in the garrison, though that's probably not what she would think. However, there is the other problem.

"… Sumia. Could you help me remove it, then?" I had always had notable trouble removing my armor, not to mention putting it on. In fact, I had only taken it off once during each timeline, which was at the start of the two year's peace. One can probably assume when I had put it back on. Each time, it ended up taking me something of two hours, and required much flexibility on my part. Thankfully, Sumia nods with a smile and proceeds to assist me.

Interestingly enough, she seemed to know her way around the armor. "This is an interesting design… But I don't believe it was meant to be taken off by the wearer herself. Perhaps you had a squire assisting you?" I shrug my shoulders. Why I have it on when I enter a timeline is a question for the world itself. And I'm not one to answer for the world. Her touch is a gentle one. At least, it's gentle in comparison to the touch of weapons and impacts. It's an unfamiliar sense, and it causes me to shiver. It's actually somewhat uncomfortable. It's too unusual.

"Are you okay?" I nod my head as I make up an excuse. "Just a bit cold." After a few minutes, the armor is almost entirely removed. Amusingly enough, as time passed, my lie became the truth. I actually am relatively cold, and I quite desire to wrap a blanket around myself. After she removes the final piece, she gauges the armor with something that may be an invisibly critical eye. "It seemed like Pegasus Knight armor at first… But it's actually much heavier. And you." I quickly move over to the bed and wrap the blanket around my shoulders, oddly sensitive to the unexpected cold, as Sumia gives her observation of me. "You're much less imposing without the armor."

I nod my head quickly, quite distracted by the cold. I had always known that fact. The armor definitely makes me look more than what I am. I'm more than likely underweight, in fact. Slightly, but not really. I wonder if my physical self has changed much since the first timeline? If I kept my body as I switched timelines, I probably weigh notably less than what I started out as. I've had to adjust the armor at a few points, so it's possible. Adjusting it was difficult, but not adjusting it made it feel odd around me. Then again, during the two years breaks, I was often told that I look much less threatening without the armor. Actually, at one point, while I was out in Ylisstol during one of the two year peaces... That's the past. Right now is the present

"Would you help me tomorrow morning in putting it back on?" I probably say it much more timidly than I mean to, even as she nods with a bright smile. I didn't expect removing my armor to affect my confidence this much, even if it was expected… I always felt vulnerable without it, and one can assume my discomfort during the two year's peace I probably look much less than I used to in her eyes now. I hope she doesn't disregard my advice, though. I really meant those words, even if they didn't necessarily make sense. "Don't worry, Chalysane. The garrison's a safe place."

Those words hurt, considering what's happened in the past. But in a good way. It feels warm, warmer than the blankets surrounding me. For now, the garrison truly is a safe place, even if it might not be in the future. As I sit once more on the bed, I note that it actually feels different from the ground. It feels unnatural, yes, sleeping without my armor and on an actual bed (I had continued to sleep on the ground during the two year peaces out of sheer habit), but, at the same time, it feels good. It's a unique feeling that I both doubt and wish I could get used to.

"Thanks, Sumia." The silence of the night beckons those words, spoken quietly, and barely loud enough for Sumia to hear, but audible nonetheless. She turns her head, the lamplight shining in and for her eyes, before they shine with her own light, a smile meant to comfort crossing her face. She sits for a few more minutes reading her book, whatever it may be, before she puts out the lamp. For a few minutes more, she tries to find a comfortable position in her bed, one that she's already used to, before she stops moving. And, after a short time, her breathing assumes a steady pace.

As for me, the unusual feeling of a soft cushion against my unarmored self felt comfortable from the moment that I touched it. As my body heat spreads through the sheets, creating a warm environment against the colder foreign one, I allow my body to let itself close my eyes. It's a comfortable darkness. For a moment, I think I lived like this every day. I think. No matter what the past was, however, I don't want to leave this warmth. It feels a "wonderful" that I haven't felt in a long while.

* * *

Author's note:

I aimed for tenderness during this last part. Hopefully I succeeded~

Shout out to Uncle Iroh as well as something else~

Parentheses up there were not a writer's add-in. Those were Chalysane's own thoughts. You'll realize that, if I might make side-notes like that in-story, I'll use double parentheses. I don't believe I've made any yet... Veh. Who knows. I might make one in the future. ((Oh, kesesese! I should be like the random narrator and speak to my character! "Who are you?!" Oh, I'm the narrator! "What!? Does this mean... that I'm actually in a story...?!" YEP!... No worries, I'll never do that in the actual story.))

((Maybe I'll do it in a separate post... Veh. Who knows~))

Most of this chapter was written in the dead of night. I swear, I'm doing this by accident. It's not on purpose D:


	7. Chapter 7 - Timing and Deployment

Chapter 7 – Timing and Deployment

I did this to her. I told her to take the chance. Gain some experience. I told her that I was confident that she'd do well. I promised myself that I'd watch over her. How could this happen. How. How how how- "Chalysane, it isn't-" Chrom's hand on my shoulder. I push it away. This is my fault, no matter what you say. I was supposed to be her guardian, I was supposed to protect her. She wasn't even supposed to be in this battle. I broke the timeline. I did something I wasn't supposed to do. And she had to pay for it. It's my fault. My fault that she's lying on the ground with half of her head missing, and-

Her hands around my throat, her eyes missing, empty holes, gaping smile, tears of blood, laughing, crying, screaming- "Why couldn't you save-"

My eyes finally open. For a moment, I stare into the ceiling of the room. The room is part of the garrison. Sit up. C'mon, Chalysane, You've done it before. The air is cold as the blanket slips off my shoulders. Look to your right. See? Sumia's still there. She's fine. Deep breath and sigh. Calm yourself, Chalysane. There's nothing to worry about. It was just a dream. It's just a dream, it's just a dream just a dream just a dream stop stop stop stop- Focus. Deep breath. Good. Wipe those tears away, everything is still fine. Calm yourself, breath slowly, fully, and exhale the same way. Empty your mind, just like always.

The light of dawn is a soothing thing. I sweep my legs over the side of my bed, feeling the cold hard ground with my feet. Do I take the slippers that have been placed by the foot of my bed, or do I walk barefoot? Best to walk with the slippers. We'll be leaving soon enough, but I seem to have woken up before everyone once more. Old habits will die hard. As for now, I will leave the armor. Sumia said that she would assist me, and I'm quite willing to put stock in my trust in her words.

Oh, but now that I'm up, what should I do? Gods, I always ask myself that question. Each and every time. I should just follow my normal routine. Eat a loaf of bread and practice. But I'm not wearing my armor. Would it really be that bad to follow the same routine if you're not wearing your armor? Besides. Normal days are more comfortable than differentiated ones, right? More predictable, and, therefore, safer. Interesting point. Bread it is then.

I've had nightmares before. Some more so terrifying, some less so. Each time, I dealt with them by clearing my mind, and following a morning routine. Said morning routine usually involves a small amount of food and physical training. Then again, considering how I can empty my mind at any moment's notice, considering that I've never really liked the drop of a hat saying, it's not exactly necessary. The routine simply acts as a method of maintaining that clarity of mind.

Swing the practice sword down, stop right before hitting the practice dummy. Bring it back to its starting position, and slide foot back. Raise sword above your head, slide foot forwards, swing practice sword down, stop right before hitting the practice dummy. Bring it back to its starting position, and slide foot back. Control. Control is a beautiful thing. If you know how to recover from an unexpected miss or block, then you are that much more dangerous. If you know when to expend energy and when to reserve it, you have that much more endurance. If you know how to stop your blade when you need to, you might just save yourself from killing an ally.

Repetition after repetition cuts through the chilly morning air. Aside from the cold, and the fact that my arms never seem to tire, the main thing that differs about this sequence from the others is the fact that I'm not wearing my armor. Most of the others, anyway. But it's close enough. Then again, close enough is only truly acceptable with area of effect weapons. As such, close enough only really counts with horseshoes and fire tomes. Especially tomes such as Valflame and Bolganone. Though, Certain Wind and Thunder tomes can be added to that list. Mjolnir, for example. Using that essentially summons a thunderbolt. Bring up the sword and slash it down once more.

Eventually, I set aside the practice sword and walk back to Sumia's room. The lighting outside is more fitting now for people other than Frederick to wake up, though it still seems we are the only two that are up. In all truthfulness, it's sometimes enjoyable to be the only person awake. A deep breath and a contented sigh as I reach for the door to Sumia's room. Then again, it would be correct in this sense to call it Sumia's and my room. I mean, after all, I am occupying her room as-

He stands over her, Chronic sheathed in her chest, her clothes stained with her blood. The door creaks open, a sound that he hears, and he turns his head. A laughing smile. I reach for the handle of my Blade-Lance. But it's not there. My Blade-Lance's sheaths are on the back of my armor. And I'm not wearing my armor. He grabs my shoulder, pulls Chronic back and-

"Chalysane!" I sit up with a start, instantly head butting and knocking Sumia to the ground as I fall back to my bed myself, my head suddenly in blinding pain. Why the hell was her head over me!? I rush my hands to my forehead in a naïve attempt to try to rub away the pain. Sumia, on the other hand, merely groans in pain. "Well… At least you're awake now…" Gods damn IT. Her head is freaking- Seriously, what the hell!? Okay… Sit up now, clear the dizziness away. I swear to the gods, this might as well give me a concussion. THIS is why I wear my armor!... Not that it would have mattered, considering my armor doesn't exactly involve a helmet. But the pain…. Maybe I should get a helmet for this thing.

"Sorry about that, Sumia. Didn't mean to sleep in." After a minute of recomposing ourselves, Sumia proceeded to assist me in redonning my armor, And I took the moment when she was working with the cuirass to apologize to her. This leads me back to now, as she dismisses the apology. "I was actually a bit grateful that you hadn't woken up yet." Considering that she already has her armor back on, I can probably assume the reason behind her gratefulness. She must have expected that I might have requested her assistance immediately after I woke up, considering my previous rank and possible resulting habits. Despite my belief, I simply nod at her words.

Sumia finishes securing the cuirass presently, and conveys this information with an appropriately spoken, "There. Good to go." I glance at her, and she steps back, and I stand up slowly myself. I'm still tired. Nightmares are quite tiring, even if the adrenaline spikes me awake. I wipe the last of the remaining particles out of my eyes and stretch my arms above my head, stifling a yawn. I reach for the handles of my Blade-Lance, just barely touching them, as a method of reassuring myself that they're there if I need them. I step towards and open the door, turning my eyes towards Sumia, who understands and exits first. It's always been like me to do such, and it has always felt right to hold the door open for someone else. It's something of a small comfort. As to why, I'm not exactly sure.

If I'm not mistaken, it seems that Sumia is already completely prepared for today's deployment. While most of the others are making final preparations for the march before breakfast, Sumia seems quite content to simply follow me as I go to sit at the table. Five seconds pass. Ten seconds pass. Fifteen. And then I lay my head on my arms and close my eyes, much to Sumia's surprise, considering her tone of voice. "You're going back to sleep?!" I open an eye and glance up at her. I really am still tired, and I am not going to lie about it. "I'm going to take a nap while we wait." My preparations were finished when I put my armor back on. Food will be in the convoy, as will water. My Blade-Lance is on my back in its sheaths, and it doesn't lose its edge. I close my eye, and bury my face deeper into my arms.

Sumia must not have been expecting this. Based on the movements of the bench underneath me, she seems quite restless. She probably can't just sit around like I can. Ah, what it'd be like to have that same mentality again… Probably tiring and overtaxing. Still, might as well satiate her desire to do something. "Sumia, could you by-chance get me a loaf of bread?" Trust me, it's not that I'm lazy. I'm just trying to get her to be relaxed. Relax when you can, 'cause the world might not give you another chance. Hard lesson I learned. I have trouble relaxing when I sleep sometimes. "Sure!" Her tone is bright, and there's a sense of relief about it. See, it's for the best.

After what seems to be an eternity that lasts for half a moment, probably because I drifted into a deeper nap for a little bit, Sumia comes back with the requested loaf of bread. "Chalysane?" I open the same eye again, noting the change in relative brightness of the area, and sacrifice my comfort to sit up and grasp the bread. I do not care to stifle my yawn this time. Sumia seems amused by this, based on her laugh. I've naught a reason to question her. Might as well save Stahl from missing breakfast. "Sumia, would you go make sure everyone's getting ready? I've a feeling one or two people might've forgotten." There's a slur in my voice that I both notice and ignore. It sounds right to me, but it probably sounds slurred to her. I can tell 'cause the words feel wrong. The message gets across, though, and Sumia nods and walks off.

As for the bread that's now in my hand, I half-consider ignoring its existence in my hand and going back to my nap. My eyes would really enjoy that. However. Food is not meant to be wasted. It is meant to be consumed with much thanks to wherever the curse it came from. However, considering that all food as multiple overall sources, I give a generalized thank you to the world, and take a bite out of the loaf. Sweet and moist. And, if I'm not mistaken, the vaguest hint of spice. Scent of rosemary. What kind of bread is this? Whatever it is, I commend the chef. Note to self, always ask Sumia to get me bread. I swear, never in any of the previous timelines have I ever tasted bread like this. This is so fascinating…

Is this some kind of coffee bread…? It would make sense considering that I'm slowly waking up. Just barely noticeable under the scent of rosemary is the pleasing scent of recently brewed coffee. Should have noticed that. Then again, considering I was half asleep, it also makes sense that I didn't. Hah. If she wanted to, Sumia could have assassinated me. Why is that so funny? No matter, I find it amusing and it puts a smile on my face. I take another bite of the bread, my sense of taste growing more so defined as I gradually continue to wake back up. Ah, there's Stahl running across the room. Sumia must have completed the unspoken task of acting where Vaike had forgotten. But no one has to know.

With a final bite, finishing off the last of the bread, I bury my face back into my arms in a desperate attempt to rediscover the comfortable sleepiness that has been slowly disappearing. In its place, an irritating restlessness and sense of awakeness. I guess it's appropriate, considering that we'll be deploying soon. But it doesn't make it any less irritating. There's the movement of the bench signaling Sumia's return. I'll just ask the obvious question. "Was there anyone?" Of course there was. "Yes, but just one. Somehow he didn't hear about the expedition." It's getting really hard keeping my face buried in my arms. My eyes are wide open in the dark as I respond to Sumia. "Will he be ready in time?" I might've said "did you deal with the situation", but that's restating the obvious. "Yes, he will."

Then might as well do something useful myself, considering that I won't be tired any time soon. I am not looking forward to the crash. Then again, there might not be a crash… Who knows. I stand up in one swift movement, my eyes quickly adjusting to the change in lighting, and catching Sumia off-guard. "Well then, let's go check the convoy." It's probably already prepared, in all truthfulness, but it wouldn't hurt to check again. Besides, we've still got a little bit of time before breakfast. On another note, I wonder how Sumia would have reacted if I had said "I'll" instead of "Let's". It's a question that I'll probably never know the answer to, though it's still something to think about.

* * *

Food, Water, spare weaponry and armor, medicines in the case of infection, Parchment and pencils and pens. Currency, Logbooks, clothes washing material, ropes, compasses and maps. Tools for many different purposes, sewing materials, tents, long poles, knives, food preparation equipment, and, apparently, items that can be used for water purification in a pinch. Speaking of water, there are also sanitary and bathroom supplies. For a moment, I cease my continuous questioning of Sumia as she searches through the convoy. I'm confident there's one more thing that I can't seem to pinpoint.

I'm confident Sumia knows. "Sumia, what did I forget to mention?" A moment's silence between us before she answers. "Fire starters." She climbs to the back of the wagon, from which her voice sounds out once more. "They're here." Frederick would have been greatly disappointed if those weren't there, but it seems he made sure they were. On another note, I'm much more confident that's everything. I can feel it. Time to pull Sumia out. "Alright then. Sumia, go get breakfast. I'll be along shortly." She climbs back out the wagon, almost toppling a set of weapons before I quickly stop it. "S-Sorry about that." I dismiss her apology for her clumsiness by intentionally mistaking her apology's reason. "Don't worry. We all forget to eat sometimes. Just go have breakfast and you'll be fine." She momentarily opens her mouth to explain the correct source of her apology. However, she closes her mouth, reforming it into a serious expression, and nods once with vigor, after which she walks away.

It's almost amusing about how impressionable some people can get. I'm confident that I can qualify as an example, though. As I watch Sumia disappear once more behind the wagon, I turn and sit down on the edge of the wagon myself. Preparations have been completed, and a personal confirmation as to that point has been made. Amazingly enough, once, even though this part of the story should always be next to perfect, we had actually run into some trouble due to mispreparation. I'm confident it was my fault, though. How was I supposed to know that those mysterious chemicals packaged in relatively fragile containers possessed medicine in their fluids?... I think it should have been obvious, really. Besides, it had already been tainted by coming into contact with the ground.

Okay, let's make some further preparations. What's different about this timeline so far? Don't think about the minor things, just the extremely serious things. I woke up where Robin was supposed to, there are two child-class units that are fighting each other, and I apparently have a past that I don't know about. Chronic was severely damaged in a way that makes it impossible to reset the timeline, but He can apparently still use it to modify timelines. As to how, I'm not entirely sure. Scratch waking up where Robin was supposed to off the list. It's definitely and seriously different, yes, but now that the issues of suspicion are generally resolved, I doubt it should continue to matter.

Furthermore, the enemy faction child-class seems to have an ability to "jump" as Avelea called it. Avelea is currently with Marth, for that matter, or as I can assume. From what I've seen, "jumping" most likely allows a person to move faster than the eye can see, though the name implies an ability to teleport. I push a couple strands of hair out of my vision. How will I deal with that? I've never-

I catch myself, leaving my hand to the side of my vision. Every single timeline since the second, I'd worried about how I would deal with events that could or would occur in the timeline. And, each time, it never exactly played out how I wanted it to. I rest my head on the palms of my hands, and my elbows on my knees. Robin's plans never worked out the way that I would have liked them to, which never gave me the ability to freely act to solve the problems as I saw fit. And I already knew what tended to happen when I disobeyed Robin's orders. I allow myself a sigh as my previously motivated outlook on the future quickly seems to deflate.

Even if He wouldn't reset the timeline if I did something that He deemed unacceptable, the fact remained that Robin was still the best strategist and tactician we had. The only thing that really differed was the lack of limitations on my abilities. Frustrating and discouraging. I should get a muffin. Strawberry or cherry muffin. Let's go with strawberry this time, and save a cherry for later. Besides, Sumia's been expecting me to appear. Compose self, walk towards the muffins, grab a unit of each, and sit down at the table.

Chrom is the first to address me. "Ah, good morning, Chalysane." I consider answering the question that's bound to come up, but I decide that I might sound as if I'm bragging if I do so. As such, I answer with a similar response. "Good morning." Jeez, I sound almost monotone. Strawberry muffin will fix that. Strawberry flavored with strawberry fragments mixed in. How much more strawberry can a strawberry muffin get!? I'll tell you. Apparently, with a bit of experimental- "You really like that muffin, don't you?" I nod vigorously at Ricken's comment, refraining from responding until I've swallowed the deliciousness. "Strawberry things are my favorite!" I can only hope that my love shows on my face, and not the grimace that I was once told "Doesn't fit with what I'm saying".

Chrom laughs at my enthusiasm, which I'm sure showed in my voice if not my expression. "Glad to hear it. Anyways, the boy's-" "Don't call me a boy!" "-name is Ricken. He's a Shepherd in training. Skillful mage despite his relative lack of experience. He's got talent." He smiles brightly at me. "Pleased to meet'cha!" His smile has always brightened my day, and that, combined with the deliciousness of a strawberry muffin is a recipe for enjoyability. I return his smile with one of my own as I nod my head in a small bow towards him. "My name's Chalysane, new to the Shepherds. An honor to meet you." His reaction to my response, intentionally flavored with sincere respect, is priceless. And my greeting is not at all a reference to his future bravery and his apparent high skill with tomes. Chrom does not kid when he says that Ricken has talent. I can vouch for him.

Chrom points out, literally pointing to reduce the need for descriptors, a few other members as we eat. "She's Maribelle, a troubadour. Just as skilled, if not more so, as Lissa in healing. She takes pride in her ability to make the best tea." And should Ricken pair with Maribelle, their future productions of said tea will always be unique, even to previous timelines. "That's Stahl, a cavalier like Sully, and one of our finest. Though I think that Miriel considers him the exact median for combat performance." He actually knows how to make concoctions and vulnerarys. The problem is getting him the ingredients for it. And, apparently, after the two year peace, he will also know how to make Elixirs. The price, as always, is the ingredients.

"Speaking of Miriel, she's a mage, and quite a skillful one at that. As for how she's like… Well, It'd be best if you got to know her for yourself. She's interesting." Note, during the two years peace, she tends to research the ability to condense pure mana into a solid. Considering my natural affinity for said mana, which she somehow tends to discover even without me applying it, she tends to use me as a test subject during said years. Her attempts are actually surprisingly successful at times. Chrom's attempts as describing her have never been more lacking, but neither have they ever been more accurate. In my opinion of course. Ricken, on the other hand. "I think she's fascinating!" And if Ricken pairs with Miriel, they discover things that people would never even dream to be possible. For example, they discover that certain Risen maintain their sentience. Well, specifically, how they maintain their sentience even after having been brain-decayed for decades and centuries. And don't even get me started on their research into manipulating light, and not via tomes. That may be one of the most amazing-

And Chrom stands up. Seems he forgot to mention Kellam. This is exactly why I go out of my way to remind him that he exists, even if no one else notices him at times. Not to mention that Chrom also failed to notice that I was unconscious when Sully and Virion arrived. Time to go then…. But after I get myself another strawberry muffin. Seriously, why can't I get whoever made this to teach me how to make it! On that note, who made them?! No matter, where's Sumia? I wish to travel by her side. "Is everyone ready? We've a long march ahead." Huh. So he's going to say it inside the garrison this time. I approve of this choice. And, this time, it's a unanimous, if not unanimously worded, agreement.

"Virion, get to a vantage point. There are Risen about." Well, not at the moment, but it makes sense. There's an army of Risen out there, and I'm not going to allow this convoy to be so easily ambushed. The "archest of archers" should be able to spot them from a way's off, and he'll probably be able to thin them out considerably before they even reach us. He claims "archest of archers" for a reason, one that I've learned by heart. Chrom does not question my judgement, though Robin does come over to ask me about- "Good call. Ranged weapon user on overwatch. He'll be able to see things others wouldn't." Okay, she's not going to ask me about the Risen? I'll just make sure. "You know what I'm talking about then?" She references to Chrom, though more so towards the entirety of the convoy. "He said their name at one point, and I eventually picked up on who he was referring to as others mentioned the name." Makes more logical sense then her simply not knowing.

"But I have something else to talk to you about." I let out a quiet hm as a response to her probe, to which she understands it for the meaning I mean it to have. "Emm-" "Chalysane!" And there's Sumia from the back. Convenient timing to, considering that Robin was just about to say Emmeryn's name. Now I really am curious as to what she wants to talk about. "Hello Sumia. You were saying, Robin?" But she glances away from me, and starts to walk to the front of the convoy. "… I'll talk to you about it later." A few moments later, the convoy begins to move forwards. That wasn't exactly the best timing. Now Sumia will think that it's her fault. Not on my watch. "Thanks for joining me, Sumia." She'll be a legend by the end of this war if she keeps this up, and I'll personally see to it.

As she smiles at me, the image from my dream flows through my conscious, visible for a moment, then disappearing. What wonderful timing. I hate myself sometimes. I'll just preoccupy myself with trying to find words to motivate Sumia without having her feel pressured. Or maybe suddenly preoccupy myself with how Emmeryn's death might play out, thank you very much mind. Seriously, why is my mind like this? I do not need this pressure right now! I need to take my mind off of this. "Sumia, Question." She turns her head towards me. "Yes?" This should be an interesting subject to dive into. "Who inspired you to join the Shep-"

"Wa-wait! I'm almost there!" Okay, what the actual- I thought I told Sumia to make sure everyone was getting ready! Don't tell me that- No, Stahl's furthering along in the convoy. And he was at breakfast. Which means that he was ready before we we're leaving, and that he knew we were leaving. Sure, Vaike might've forgotten, but Sumia would- "Ah! I was wondering where you were. We're going to Ferox. Didn't Vaike tell you?" Okay, something's definitely not right. Vaike was supposed to inform Stahl. "No, he did not! Good thing I saw you guys getting ready. Ha!" That is definitely not Stahl. His voice is much different. "Glad you could make it, Lieutenant." Lieutenant? I don't recall there being a lieutenant in the Shepherds. Whoever, this person is, he runs right past me and Sumia and joins Chrom up at the front of the Column.

I take the chance to question Sumia. "Sumia, who's this person?" Or, at least, I would've if she hadn't already started running up there. Might as well run up there too. "Ordin!" Ordin…? That is definitely not a name that I've heard before. Ordin turns at the sound of Sumia calling his apparent name. "Sumia! How're you?!" And then Sumia runs into his open arms and they hug each other. If it isn't obvious that these two know each other, it's questionable as to when the word obvious lost its meaning. "I'm doing wonderful!" A music note or a squiggly would go perfectly after the word wonderful. These two should continue walking soon. The convoy hasn't stopped moving, and I'm confident it won't stop for the two of them. As I catch up to the trio of Chrom, Sumia, and the person named Ordin, I can't help but laugh at Lissa's and Vaike's wonderful variation of their conversation. "How could you forget him! This is worse than forgetting your axe!" Need I reiterate more?

Chrom notices me by my laugh. "Ah, yes! Lieutenant Wellspring, we've another new addition to the Shepherds, other than the one I told you about last night." Sumia and Ordin, whose last name is apparently Wellspring, break apart their hug, to reveal a suddenly serious faced Lieutenant Wellspring. More importantly, when did Chrom go anywhere last night? Wouldn't I have noticed it? Must have been when I was sparring with Sully. Wait, then if what he says is true, then he completely forgot about me! Have I been affected by Kellam syndrome!?... This could be so useful. Oh, if only there was such a thing.

Focus, Chalysane, and stop going off on mental tangents. Ordin is talking again. "Is that so? Who's the recruit?" As they resume walking, Chrom points to me, who's standing behind the trio and keeping herself quiet, as he refers to me. "Uses quite the unique weapon, and, apparently an old friend of Emm's. On another note, she's an ex-captain. Ex because she lost her memory." He nods, not looking back at me. Why won't you look back? Though, in all truthfulness, he probably doesn't need to. I have the vaguest of feelings that he's already analyzed me from simply running past me. "If she's lost her memory, why'd you recruit her? Even if she could fight from muscle memory, I'd doubt she'd be any good." Chrom shakes his head and chuckles at his Lieutenant's claim. "I think I would beg to differ." Thank Chrom, that means a-

And then Ordin's sword is pointed at my face. A Brave Sword. We have those this early? Well, I guess it would make sense. There _were_ an unusual amount of silver and steel weapons in the convoy. Must have been so used to seeing them that I forgot that they weren't supposed to be used this early in a timeline. "And I would beg to differ." Interestingly enough, no one seems to have reacted to the fact that Ordin's now pointing his sword at my face as he counters Chrom's faith in me. Then again, I guess they don't have a reason to. He must do this all the time. And, somehow, he still isn't looking at me. Whoever this soldier named Ordin is, he knows what he's doing. "Though the fact that she didn't flinch is admirable." He doesn't even look at me and he can sense everything that I do. On another note, I love his control and sense of space.

"Where'd you pick her up?" Ordin moves on to question my origins, and Chrom seems thoroughly embarrassed now that he's been shown up. Maybe I should have done something instead of just standing there. I knew that he wouldn't have hit me. His combined length of arm and sword doesn't reach me, as I'm taking care to stand right outside of it, even as we had been moving. If I had not stopped moving, I would have walked right into the sword. But, then again, how would he have known that I would stop? Had I been any other person, I might as well have died. "We found her near Southtown, unconscious and lying on the ground." Chrom says this in a thoroughly subdued manner.

"Well, whoever she is, she's a good find. I take back what I said earlier." Ordin lets down his sword and replaces it at his hip. "Welcome to the Shepherds, girl. My name's Ordin Wellspring. Refer to me as Lieutenant, with or without Wellspring, or more commonly as Sir. Understood?" Ah, so he's the military type then. He seems quite taken towards not looking at me. Is he trying to intimidate me? No matter the case, he just told me to refer to him as sir, so refer to him as sir I will. I'm not a foreigner to these formalities, and I may just be a native amongst them considering how normal it feels. "Yes, Sir! Understood, Sir!" Completely natural, with a music note at the end.

Well, considering that Sumia is obviously in good hands now, as Lieutenant Wellspring's probably the reason why I was so able to influence her with just three hard to understand sentences, I guess I'll go back and talk to Robin. "I recognize your voice. Have we met somewhere?" To turn around, or not to turn around. He didn't turn around for me, so I won't turn around for him. He may be higher ranked, but I'm an ex-captain that doesn't remember anything. On another note, I also deal in fairness. "I do not believe so, Sir!" And then I dash to the back of the line before I can hear any further commands.

* * *

"Do you know him?" Robin's tone is curious, just as I would expect it to be. "No, I don't. But I think "Lieutenant Wellspring", as he wants me to refer to him as, knows me." Robin laughs at the situation, and I can't help but find myself amused as well. "Everyone seems to know you, but you yourself." I shake my head at the irony. Semi-irony, that is, considering it's only two people, and one of the two only recognizes me. And then Robin quietly mentions to me the obvious, which I apparently hadn't assumed. "Is it just me, or do they seem to like each other." As I think about it, I give my appropriate answer. "Like is an understatement." Completely un-captain like. But, given, as a throwback to the old days, their support level is obviously brinking on S. What wonderful timing to suddenly reveal another addition, specifically Lieutenant Wellspring, who obviously also has a past here.

Ferox is around about a few day's travel away, considering the pace that we seem to be making. Well, in truthfulness, It only ever took a few days in previous conditions. The map, based on its scaling, would make me think that it would take at least a week. Either that, or my constant thought made the days seem shorter. It's probably the latter. Might as well pull my trump card, considering that I'm not interested in considering Wellspring. "Robin?" She turns her head. "Yes, Chalysane?" I probably won't glean anything new from this, but… "Let's talk about tactics." It's actually quite useful if I actually apply myself instead of thinking instinctually on the battlefield. Besides, I've already learned a sufficient amount to hold something of a two-sided discussion. And, sometimes, it can actually be fun.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Edits:**

**-Changed a few "he"s in the last few paragraphs to actual names to help in specification, and reworded a couple of sentences. These changes occur from "And then Ordin's sword-" onwards.  
-Modified the sentence sentence section after "he may be higher ranked" and isolated part of the sentence into its own sentence.  
-Modified Chalysane's response dialogue to Robin's question relating as to whether or not Chalysane knew Ordin.**

******-_After trying to redo the end part of this section, I've decided that it might work better using the original plot architecture._**

_In other news, I did NOT expect to add in Wellspring. One of my readers might recognize him.. Yes, I'm looking at you. I bother you all the time. Anyways, I expected Chalysane, Him, and the two world-travelers to be the ONLY non-canon characters in this story. But NOOOO, excuse the caps, my mind suddenly decides "Oh let's go have Wellspring in here too~" and decides to say "It fits too~" as well! This is what happens if you let me write stuff with my true writing power: It begins to evolve beyond what I originally expect it to be. Here's hoping you don't mind! +derp_


	8. Chapter 8 - Weapons at the Ready

Chapter 8 – Weapons at the Ready

Miniscule contact with both Lieutenant Wellspring and Sumia, who have both stayed relatively near the front whilst I at the back. The march, overall, has been relatively quiet for me. So to speak. Placing Virion at the top of the convoy wagon has helped prevent any major combat. He tends to take out a large number of targets before the ever get close to the convoy. In fact, it's more so become the job of a one or two people to simply retrieve the arrows he expends. Sometimes. This is, of course, assuming that "large" actually means "most", and that "most" refers to the number "ten out of thirteen" over the timespan of three days.

It seems that the view on the map seems relatively correct, now. This march to Ferox is taking much more time than it ever did before. It's not necessarily negative, though. More time to prepare for the coming battle, more time to analyze the new addition, Lieutenant Wellspring. Then again, it's not so much that he's a new addition, considering that it's more than obvious that all the other Shepherds know him. Excluding the new additions of course.

As of this very moment, the Bridge where the next battle should be occurring is seemingly on the horizon. As would be a demonstration of Lieutenant Wellspring's combat abilities. From the way he pointed that Brave Sword at me, it almost seemed as if it weighed next to nothing. Then again, a Brave Sword really is light, which explains why its wielder's attack pace is more than doubled. I guess the correct way to describe the lieutenant's way of holding the sword is that it seemed as if he were wielding a rapier. An emphasis on thrusting attacks instead of slashing.

I keep to myself as always. That's the overall truth of it. Like looking at a picture or a play that I've seen before. I look for details in the world that I never noticed during my previous viewing. It's challenging, but it's also quite rewarding when I prevail against said challenge. At least, that's how I answered when Miriel went out of her way to query as to why I am so keen to direct my observational tendencies towards the physical world. My follow-up answer was that studies of physical data is almost as effective as intellectual data, if not more so in certain circumstances.

Speaking of interactions, it wouldn't hurt to recall some of them. "Teach" as he calls himself "nowadays", attempted to "educate" me on the more so "complex" forms of combat. Sometimes, I wonder where he gets his strength, as it is notably higher than most of the Shepherds. Lissa found it entertaining to watch as Vaike and I sparred. Vaike was quite content to "educate" the "clumsy, new to combat" Chalysane, and it's quite amusing to hear his attempts at explaining the "finer" points of combat. Frederick, on the other hand, seemed just as blatantly unamused as always.

Robin spends most of her time up at the front with Chrom, the Lieutenant, and Sumia, and Wellspring seems quite keen on discussing strategy with her. At least, that's what I can assume, considering the amount of time the Lieutenant spends talking to her. On another note, while Wellspring is around, Sumia seems less keen to become her clumsy self, and is clearly much more sure of herself. The "I can do anything if you're here" syndrome. That's would be clear and complete overconfidence if she weren't still careful about her actions. Not to mention that her "anything" only applies to things that would make sense for her to be able to do, and definitely not "everything".

"On your guard, Chalysane!" Oh, and, on another note, the Lieutenant took the time to learn my name. More to the current point, he apparently loves to randomly test my reaction time. Well, try at least. Much to my expense. I never have any interest in defending myself against him. Even if he never holds back with his strikes. Even if I seem to have become quite acquainted with the dirt on the ground. "Ordin! Can you please stop knocking Chalys to the ground!? It can't be good for her health!" Oh, don't worry, Sumia. I've been through far worse. But, I do agree with your request nonetheless. "It'll be good for her when she starts to learn how to block." You must be blind not to notice that I've never even tried to block.

No matter. I'll just stand up, dust my armor off, and ignore the pain in my stomach. He seemed to have hit the solar plexus this time, but the pain is manageable. "Maybe next time you'll succeed, Chalysane!" And with a jubilant laugh, he walks back towards the front. I put on a smile once more, but only an imitation of one. "Can't you give her a break, though?" Sumia, on the other hand, seems to be able to tell that his persistence may not be in either my or his best interests. In response, however, the Lieutenant just deflects her question. "Chalysane here knows it's good for her. Right?" He glances over his shoulder at me, a confident smile on his face. Stand at attention and salute. I'm good at this, at least. "Yes sir, Lieutenant!" And with a nod, he rejoins Chrom up at the front, who glances back at me as I continue with my pace.

"Why do you let him do that?" Robin, who had come to the back with the Lieutenant, walks over to me as Vaike and Miriel move away from me. My first impressions for them aren't exactly promising, after all. "I don't know really." It's the truth. I really don't know how I should act with him. I have experience and knowledge with everyone in this deployment group except for Lieutenant Wellspring specifically. "It doesn't feel right." Robin is sincerely worried for me. I can see it in her expression. One of the pluses of knowing someone for a long time. I poke her once in her arm, redrawing her attention to me. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine." Even as she nods, I can tell she will worry about it.

But if I were to take actions to prevent her from worrying, what repercussions would that have with the Lieutenant? That's a question that I have to ask myself before doing anything, really. What repercussions would my actions have on who, and what would those be. If I were to simply take the attack without responding nor blocking, it would most likely guarantee a teacher-pupil relationship with the Lieutenant and me. He would try and teach me to fight better, and I would listen to his lessons, even if I didn't necessarily need them. In fact, I think that I might just be able to fight better than him. But no matter.

Robin apparently worries for my sake, Sully would wonder why I would let the piece of crap do that to me, and Virion would think me possibly noble for letting the lesser take the glory. Frederick may think that I may be taking the path of discretion, rather than making myself stand out, and Chrom would ponder as to my reasons, most likely reducing them to prevention of conflict. As for Lissa, I think she would just want the Lieutenant to stop attacking me. Conflicts are bad, as one would expect.

Miriel might be able to see me holding myself back, and Vaike would believe that I would improve over time, considering I now had two highly skilled teachers. Sumia would most likely wonder, considering what I said to her in this timeline, as to whether this was the true form of the person she had momentarily looked up to. Ricken would see me as the fellow recruit that I always will be, and Maribelle would think along the same general lines of Virion, but with much more curiosity as to my past, considering my actions.

And I would simply think through the possibilities of the other choices I could have taken. Then again, this is already expected. The pain in my stomach finally dissipates to a generally less-than-immediately noticeable point, and I resume my normal pace. I don't necessarily hate the Lieutenant, and I don't necessarily like him either. His intentions are intended to be positive, and they don't necessarily feel good when he enacts them. But, overall, I don't exactly care.

"Captain Chrom! Risen from all directions! Too many for me to count!" Ah, Virion's warning, the cue for the combat, as he jumps down from the town of the wagon, bow in hand. Once upon a time, he broke his bow doing something like that. It was hilarious, though not for him. And, of course, it was only hilarious until he almost got killed. Robin dashes up towards Chrom, ready for action, as I simply stretch and glance back at the oncoming hoard. Hoard is truly a good descriptor. However, the main point of note is that we haven't reached the bridge yet. Interesting.

As Robin reaches Chrom, something that scares me happens. "Chrom! We need to turn and-" As Robin begins to speak, Lieutenant Wellspring steps in. "No worries, Robin. I'm the strategist here." Robin immediately shuts her mouth in response to this. And I, as previously stated, am scared by this. Robin is supposed to be the tactician and strategist. No one else. Last time I tried- Focus. Don't think back to then. You need to concentrate on now. When people other than Robin try to strategize, people die. People that both you and others know and love.

But Chrom, Robin, the Shepherds, and Lieutenant Wellspring don't know that. Wellspring _**is**_ their tactician and strategist. They've never had need for another one. Robin may be a prodigy, as Chrom had seen, but Wellspring is tried and proven. And if each of the Shepherds are still here, then he must have been doing a good job. "And we won't be leaving the wagons. Race to the bridge. It's a chokepoint. We'll hold them there." A sound strategy, if it weren't for the fact that there are Risen there, which Robin must have expected. As such, her reasons for trying to tell us to turn and fight instead of using the choke point.

But I'm not the one to disobey orders from Wellspring, either, am I? And neither is Robin, considering her lack of memory. And neither are the Shepherds, who know that Wellspring knows what he's doing. They galvanize the horses pulling the wagons into a higher speed, and we race to the Bridge, and away from the oncoming hoard of Risen. There are already more than fifty in that oncoming wall, and I know there are more to come. "Chalysane! Get up here!" Consider Wellspring your temporary Robin until Robin once more becomes the main strategist. Now fall into action.

I dash up the front, ready and willing to give my all. "Yes sir, Lieutenant!" He points to the quickly approaching bridge. "You and Sumia are point. Cross the bridge, and clear the area. Go!" An essential death sentence. But I know it isn't. The lieutenant can probably see it, and he wouldn't put his love in danger. Sumia probably told him about my encouraging words, which is why he sent her with me. To force another level of responsibility and motivation on me, while giving her a chance to gain actual combat experience. He knows what he's doing. I know it.

"Yes sir! Sumia, With me!" A solidly serious glance towards Sumia, a strong, steeled response glance from her, and we dash forwards. Sumia carries a Steel Lance, and holds it as if she were the bane of all Lance and Sword users alike. She has a proud confidence that I have never seen in her prior to saving Chrom. My only hope is that I'll be able to see it again. As we gain distance from the group, I vaguely hear Lieutenant Wellspring call out a rallying cry. "Weapons at the ready! Prepare for combat!" I turn my head to Sumia, who seems to be keeping up well. "You heard him. Weapon at the ready." I can see her grip visibly tighten on her Lance.

Our feet hit the wooden architecture of the Bridge. Wide enough for three wagons to stand side by side, and long enough for four front to back. An area space of twelve wagons for our three, just as wide as I remember it to be. We clear the bridge within a few seconds, and a roar from our left, Sumia's side. A sword-wielder. Sumia, of course, already knows what to do, and the beast's head is quickly impaled upon her point. She kicks it off seconds later, freeing her weapon from what should be a carcass, considering the supposedly fatal wound, and stabs it once more in the stomach, ensuring its death as it dissipates into smoke. "Good kill." A confident nod, and she turns around and opens her mouth to call out to Wellspring. "It's clear, Ordin!" And, as she says, it rightly may well be.

There's no Risen yet. Are they all behind us? I turn around as well and consider the approaching wall. There's normally a count of fourteen enemies here, seven before the bridge, and seven after crossing it, with none directly behind us. It may be possible that all of the expected Risen are in the wall that is currently chasing the convoy. Fourteen times four, four as basing off the enemy numbers of both the Southtown incident and the Wildfire incident, equals fifty six. Considering more than fifty in the oncoming hoard, and you've got yourself the entire expected force.

But then how would they get behind us? We encountered next to nothing on the way here. The sight of His cruel smile flashes through my head. I need to move Sumia now. I grasp her arm and pull her towards me just as Chronic flashes through the spot she had been just moments before. "What _wonderful_ instinct, Chalys!" This last word is accompanied by another slash, that once more cuts through where we were standing mere moments before. "Sumia, get clear!" With those words, I push her towards the bridge with one hand, while drawing one half of my Blade-Lance with the other to block yet another attack from Him.

"Oh, so _you're_ going to stay while you have _her_ run?" I draw the other blade and assume a defense combat stance. "I was ordered to." He laughs, wonderfully amused by my response. "Oh, is _that_ so!?" He flips Chronic upside down and stabs it into the ground as my eyes flash towards the broken Hourglass on its Cross-Guard. "Well, Isn't that _cute._" An army of Risen steps out from trees, a count of about another fifty. "Well, it's not _my_ concern." He lifts up Chronic from its partial sheath in the ground, carrying it loosely in his hand as he turns and walks away. "But, if you die _this time_, there's nothing I can do except leave you to your empty void." His voice is frustratingly carefree. "Take care, _Chalysane~_" The Risen do not notice him as he disappears through their midst.

I don't need to fight him. All I need to do is clear the area, right? It's just fifty or so targets. These ones don't even seem like much of a challenge, considering their lumbering, half-dead pace. Switch the Blade-Lance halves to an adaptive combat stance. Besides, even if I survive this battle, in the end, it won't exactly matter, will it? He's clearly adept at summoning more enemies than normal. He'll just keep summoning more and more offensive units. Hell, he may as well summon a second Grima. No matter how hard I try, it won't matter in the end anyway. I'll still die, and I'll still lose allies. Might as well die playing the game how I was originally meant to play it: Following orders.

And then I start to walk forwards as the Risen adjust their trajectories to follow my changing position. One dashes at me, its lance at the ready. I slash its point off and remove its head. Another charges at me, its axe at the ready. I duck underneath its arc and separate his abdomen from his legs, and half of his upper half from the other. A third charges at me, its sword at the ready. I deflect the sword with one blade, remove its carrying arm with the other, then thrust my recently free other blade into his stomach, and follow with the other before moving them in opposite vertical directions. Three billows of smoke, one right after the other.

The rest begin to move faster in their approach towards me. It's a wonder why they haven't charged yet. I let my blades hang loosely at my sides for a moment. In the end, nothing really changes. I'm still tormented by Him, I'll still be following orders, and everyone will still be on the brink of death. The harsh reality of battle will never change, no matter how much I wish it to. Just like time will never cease its unrelenting march. I take a breath and sigh. Life is hard.

I glance back at the group considering how Robin now stands, calling out commands, with Wellspring at her side, judging her commands. It won't be long before he realizes her strategic genius. He turns his head around at Sumia's unexpected voice, and, based on his expression, realizes that I now stand alone against another similarly-sized hoard. He starts to try and rush towards me, but finds himself held back by Sumia, under Robin's orders. Leave her be. Robin's words exactly. But she'll die! Wellspring's words exactly.

"You sent her out there with no support other than Sumia, and she sent Sumia back. You understand that, right? Now bring your eyes back to the front." Robin's harsh and unforgiving tone does not have the sense of helplessness that she has when someone is about to die. But Wellspring doesn't know that, does he? "I can't let her die!" Unexpectedly, there's much more desperation in his voice rather than frustration. Amusing. The Risen begin their rush as Robin ignores him, commanding Sumia to enure that he doesn't go back for me, even if it seems as if I might die. How harsh, Robin. But you know what needs to be done, and I can hear what your orders basically are. I'm simply to fight to the death, to give no quarter, and make no retreat. I raise my blades, gripping them firmly to their assault, weapons at the ready.

And then I lose myself in battle.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Once more, I half expected to go further beyond this point. However! It suddenly felt right to leave off right here. And so I did. If I might make a request, could you by-chance leave a review stating your favorite paragraphs/parts of the story? I love hearing from my readers~ You should see me go crazy whenever you guys leave reviews xP I'm constantly checking my email in a hopes that someone left a new review~ But no pressure! The fact that people are actually READING my writing is joy more than I ever dreamed of~ Thanks for reading, and see you whenever I post the next chapter! ((Which should be in another three days, basing on how I'm trying to schedule myself xP))**

_OH! On another note, I did NOT write and finish this chapter in the dead of night. I wrote most of it at the BEGINNING of Night, and finished it LATE into the night! It's an improvement, right?! xD_

_((Partial inspiration for this chapter stems from the Vocaloid song "Last Battle".))_


	9. Chapter 9 - A Long Forgotten Peace

Chapter 9 – A Long Forgotten Peace.

One half of my Blade-Lance stands, stuck in the ground, where it would be sheathed in the body of a Risen, had they not the tendency to disappear when they "die". The other hangs loosely in my exhausted arm, sore, but ready to be used once more if necessary. There are still eight more opponents left, the Chiefs of the group, and they stand off from me, "thinking" about their plan of action. I confident they can think, though. Regardless of whether they are sentient or not, though, they're just targets. Targets to be killed. Targets that will try to kill me, and will fall in the process. Overall and nonetheless, in my eyes, they are not human. Unthinking. Unburdened by that curse. I draw the other half of my Blade-Lance from its position in the ground, and react to a charge made by one of the Chiefs.

When was the first time I felt like this? Empty enough to not care as to how everything played out. Acting unintentionally. One would think that I'd already given up, but here I am, still fighting. I think it may have been the fourth timeline. I felt dead inside. I had once more witnessed the deaths of most, if not all of my allies. One of the two most important ones had fallen, and He had appeared and reset the timeline. I simply sat on the ground, waiting for him to do his job, as I held a dead body in my arms. I did not cry that day. I had seen it all before.

* * *

When I opened my eyes in the Inn just like always, I had ignored the innkeeper. When the brigands broke into the building and told everyone to get on their knees, I had simply stood up. I couldn't hear them, really, but, at the same time, I could. I had heard them four times before. This was the fifth. I had no interest in listening to them. Not like I had during the first timeline. I stood up, drew my Blade-Lance, and then their blood was splattered against the wall. One of them tried to run. But I had learned how to throw my Blade-Lance with deadly skill.

I had walked outside then, and pulled my sword out of his sinking-to-its-knees, slowly dying body. Garrick had stared at me with the most unforgiving glare that I had already seen twice before. This time, instead of staring back at him with a challenge, I stared at him with the emptiness I felt inside of me. His glare broke into one of confusion, not even terror. As for me, after giving him the glimpse of my emotions, I engaged them.

By the time Chrom had arrived, I was sitting on the steps of the still burning town hall, Garrick's axe in my right hand, Blade-Lance halves in their sheathes. I announced to them what had happened before they got here, even as many of the bodies yet lay at my feet, a result of their vain effort to avenge their leader. "They were Brigands. They're dealt with." I was yet covered in their blood, which is probably why Lissa was so terrified of me. Frederick was half-ready to kill me, and Chrom was similarly suspicious. Robin, male during that iteration, was the only person that could see and understand that I was an ally, and not the mass-murderer the environment made me out to be. But they wouldn't forget what they saw, and I heard murmurs about that day for the rest of the timeline.

During the battle on the seas, I had suffered a Spear through my stomach, and, in the pain I felt that I was still not used to at the time, I had fallen to my knees. By the time I recovered mentally enough to fight, an enemy Swordmaster was bearing down on me. As I struggled to stand up, I couldn't help but feel as if I had deserved this. I had killed without discrimination. I maintained no inkling of mercy for my enemies. And I had allowed them to die whilst I felt nothing. No regret, no happiness, no triumph. Nothing.

As death itself bore down upon me that day, I felt nothing all the same. I simply stared up at the Swordmaster as he raised his blade to execute me. It was a Killing Edge. How fitting. I felt nothing about my death. To me, it was, in truthfulness, the freedom that I had long desired, even if there was nothing to follow. Freedom through darkness, if not freedom through another life. I had experienced enough for more than one lifetime. I needed not another.

And so, even as I continued trying to stand, unwilling to listen to those thoughts that questioned my efforts, I had hesitated long enough to give the Swordmaster a chance to make his strike. My already dulled eyes, the light of youth long gone from them, would see, for the first time, the void of death.

* * *

When I had woken up in the Inn for the first time, I had known that I had not gone to sleep there. I had gone to sleep elsewhere, a place that I only knew during that timeline and for maybe the one afterwards. When the innkeeper had greeted me, I had asked, "When did I get here?" He answered me in amusement, cleaning a plate. "Late last night. Woke me and my wife up." I immediately felt the embarrassment rush to my face as I stuttered my response. "S-sorry…" He simply laughed at the apology. "Old enough to live on her own, but not so to be on the streets. I'm happy we woke up." I smiled at him, even as I still felt that heated embarrassment.

I had spent a number of minutes trying to figure out why I would be in the Inn. I also couldn't help but think of whoever it was that was wondering where I had disappeared to. I don't remember now who I thought of. Just that I thought of them. I noted the armor that I wore, and the weapons that were in the sheaths on the back, and was surprised that I had them there. I had brought them from someplace else, not wherever I had come from, but from another place that was separated by time and space. I knew back then. The only thing I didn't know was where I was.

Then the brigands came into the building. I backed myself against the wall in impulsive fear as they hefted their weapons. "To your knees, missy!" My heart pounded in fear as I obeyed. At the same time, I couldn't help but feel as if I should do something, considering I had a weapon. But I never drew it. "What d'ya think we should do wit'er?" One looked at the other, as a third watched over the other occupants of the Inn, and the other grinned a terrifying smile as he stared into my eyes. "She's a right nice one, ain't she?" I suddenly felt a desire to reach for my Blade-Lance, and to teach them to look down on me.

I knew how to use them, already, and I had learned in another place other from the one I had gone to sleep in. I wasn't going to kill them, but I was going to prevent them from doing anything to me by threat of force. But before I could do anything, a voice that I thought was familiar called out from outside the Inn, and the three brigands left the building, disappointment apparent in their tone. As the sounds of combat start to sound out, I gasped in a breath, realizing that I had been holding it.

I started to hyperventilate. I knew that I was hyperventilating, but I couldn't stop. All I could think was how dangerous of a situation I was in. I wanted to stop myself. But I couldn't. I pushed myself as hard as I could against the wall and away from the door. This was an environment I was unfamiliar with. I had never seen a place like such in either the first place or in the second place, but this place seemed like the second.

I tried to press the thoughts of what I had just experienced out of my head, but to no avail. I was far too terrified to think correctly. But then the Innkeeper moved over to me, knelt back down to me, and grasped me by my shoulders. What he said, I can't remember completely, but what he said to me first made me think that he knew who I was. "… You have to pull yourself together. You have a weapon, and it seems y'know how to use it. Go help the people who are fighting outside." I shook my head furiously at him. I couldn't actually kill anyone. It was far too real.

"You have to!" He shook me once more, his eyes staring desperately into mine as I finally opened them and looked at him. He was afraid. Just as I was. However, unlike me, he couldn't fight against those who wished to do him harm. I wiped the tears from my eyes with my gloved hand and stood up. I took a deep breath, steeling myself against what I was about to do. "… O-ok- okay." My voice shook like nothing I had ever heard before, whenever and wherever before was.

I ran outside, drawing the weapons from my back just as I had always done, just as I always would, and cut down the brigand who had looked into my eyes. Blood immediately covered the weapon, and sprinkled onto the ground as the blade passed through him. I knew I wasn't in the first place. It was all I could do to prevent myself from screaming in regret. I had never killed someone before, not like this. He wouldn't come back to life. I had permanently ended someone's existence.

I dropped one of the halves to the ground, covering my mouth with my hand. It was all wrong. I killed someone. Someone alive. Blood welled from his slain body, which would never stand once more, covering the ground with its color. He had threatened something that I would never willingly have part of, but I didn't want this. The other brigand rushed towards me, and I simply raised the other half of the blade. He didn't stop in time. He impaled himself on my weapon. A look of shock and fear poured across his face as he let out a scream. A world-rending scream. I had killed two people. I stifled my own scream with my hand.

"You HAVE to FIGHT." The innkeeper stepped out from his building to help steel me for further action. I stepped back and turned my head to look at him, tears welling in my eyes, as a bolt of fire flew past my face. The bolt caught the innkeeper full in the chest, sending him falling backwards into his inn as the flames seared both his clothes and himself. I cried out for his sake, but I knew he had died before he had hit the ground. His death was truly my fault. If I hadn't had been so terrified, then he wouldn't have had to step in. He wouldn't have ever had to leave the building to encourage me, to tell me to fight.

I forced the tears in my eyes back as I picked up the half of my Blade-Lance on the ground. The first kills were always the hardest. That saying can't be anymore true. After those first kills, you'll slowly grow colder to it, more used to it. It becomes natural, a part of your personality. And you never go back. I slashed at the third bandit, the one who had cast that bolt of fire. My Blade-Lance passed through him just as easily as it passed through the first. Blood once more sprinkled onto the ground, once more wetting my Blade-Lance. But it didn't terrify me as much as the first time.

And, before I knew it, the battle was over. I went back to the Inn, and knelt of the innkeeper's charred body. Nausea filled my senses, but I built up my resistance to it a long time ago. But I couldn't help but cry. I hadn't even known him, and he stilled tried to help keep me alive, if only through positive encouragement. As I think on it now, if I hadn't heard his voice during that moment, my first experiences in the world may have been of the terrifying void of death. Had it happened to early, I might have never recovered.

A gentle hand on my shoulder, and I turned my head and to see Chrom, kneeling behind me. Only then did I realize where I was. I was in Ylisse. It wasn't the first world, nor was it the second world. It was Ylisse. The relief I felt was beyond any description. But, in the vulnerability of relief, the pain I felt was greater than ever, and I threw my arms around the unsuspecting prince. I needed someone to comfort me, and it would seem that he understood, as his arms soon wrapped around me. I didn't care if anyone else saw. This was the correct feeling for having seen someone die, right? This was the correct feeling for having killed someone yourself, right? This was the correct feeling when you have someone to comfort you and assure you that you did nothing wrong, right?

I had nightmares for the first few weeks afterwards. Eventually, however, I recovered. The memories grew darker in my mind as I killed Risen, Brigands, and Grimleal alike. I made sure never to kill the people who had no evil intentions, however. The Feroxian wall guards, and the arena warriors are a couple examples. I would have times of laughter, I would have times of sadness, times of rage, and times of anguish. Overall, I couldn't help but think my life was far better than before. As to why, I can no longer remember now a days.

But everything changed when Ricken… It wasn't fair. I would never forgive myself. I haven't even now. I promised that I would never let another person die. And no one did. For a while. Two years would pass, and then the Valmese would invade. We lost another there. Another in the volcanic area. And two others against Walhart. Remember not, the pain you felt then. I need not remember it. But I can yet hear their cries…

The day came when we would fight at the Dragon's table. Robin and Chrom would valiantly fight against Validar himself, as I would stand with the rest of our forces and fight the Grimleal's army. We stood strong, and I stronger. Enemies fell before my blade, as they had before, and they fell before those of my comrades, as they would in the future. There would be no loss of life this time. I promised myself this. I would throw myself into harm's way before I would allow that.

Validar found himself defeated, Chrom harmed, but not dead, and Basilio yet alive. Victory was in reach. A perfect battle, no one severely injured, and definitely not one dead. With every enemy felled, we stood at the south of the Battlefield, victorious.

At that moment, I yet saw a final figure standing where Validar had once stood, a silhouette at the altar. A laugh of an unknown voice, and a blade of an unknown make. "Come forth, Chalysane, and meet your destiny!" His tone was suspicious, but I yet stepped forth for a reason I no longer know. He stared at me, and I at him. I knew not his intents. "Who are you?" He lifted his blade, wielding it with one hand where a swordmaster would hold it, with the other hand a few inches in front of him and palm toward the ground. He laughed off my question. "You won't remember."

Before I knew it, I was on the ground, a terrible wound across my chest. He picked me up easily, holding me by the cuirass of my armor, and threw me against the altar. "Come, or watch her die." I wanted none of them to come, as I couldn't help but think that he wanted me alive, that he wanted them to come. But I couldn't call this out to them, could I? I was in too much pain. I had never suffered such a terrible wound before. I couldn't focus through it all. But I could yet see.

Frederick was the first to come. He had been there at Southtown. He had seen me in that terrible state, hugging Chrom as if he were the last bastion of safety that existed in the world. He had told me that he had never forgotten the look on my face that day, how much anguish I held even though I had only fought to survive. He had told me that he would never let me die such a terrible death. Frederick rode forth on his horse, bravely standing across the field from Him, the expression on Frederick's face promising salvation. "Not so long as I draw breath." In response, He spoke, ever so quietly, so that only I could hear, a message only for me, and not for Frederick, his unknowing opponent. "And so you shall cease to draw breath."

Frederick charged against him, Brave Lance in hand. As Frederick closed in on him, He simply stretched his arm and brought his sword back up. A weaponry disadvantage, a sword versus a lance. The prospected victor was obvious. Frederick thrusted forth toward his target, an easy kill. But then his horse crashed to the ground, sending Frederick sliding across the ground, stopping at my feet. With his lance, he pushed himself to his feet, looking on at his steed, that which he had ridden into countless battles, as it lay on the ground, already dead.

He turned his attention back to his opponent, whose blade was once more wet with red. He slashed his blade through the air, sending droplets of blood onto Frederick's armor. Neither of them said a word, as Frederick drew a Brave Sword and dashed back into the fray. The clashing of steel against steel went on for a long minute, a testament to the greater true skill that Frederick held over me. They fought confidently, equals. They broke apart for a moment, Frederick's breathing visible, but He almost completely unaffected.

"Worthy of the title Great Knight, aren't you, Frederick? But enough of these games." And, with those words, it was enough of the games. Frederick charged him once more. "Your last breath-"

It was enough of the games, wasn't it? His blade impaled Frederick completely, faster than even I could see. That blade of unknown make had passed completely through him, sticking out the back of Frederick's armor. "…approaches…" But Frederick still stood, and raised his sword to strike him. "Oh? Very well then." And before Frederick could cast down his sword upon his opponent's head, Frederick's own was falling to the ground.

Chrom had already been running across the field at that time with Robin at his side. They had started running the moment the two had paused their duel. Chrom roared in rage as Frederick fell to the ground, and Robin's face was in a bitter frown, the one he made when a strategy didn't go as it was supposed to, or when he couldn't see the existence of a solution. I couldn't cry out. I could only look on as the two quickly engaged the murderer, Falchion glowing with power, and Robin's tome sparking with energy, his sword swinging at his side.

For a moment, it felt like the initial battle against Validar, except for that Validar was wielding a sword of an unknown make, and that Validar wasn't Validar. Bolts of powerful energy flew across the stage, as Falchion carved paths of light through the darkness of the Dragon's table, and Robin's sword flashing through as he saw fit. I sat where I was, unable to move, and slowly bleeding out. But I was able to hold on. Robin landed a solid hit against Him, and Chrom threw him powerfully to the ground. The two of them together were far more skilled than anyone else in the Shepherds.

Suddenly, things went wrong. Robin found himself unbalanced, and Chrom dashed in to cover for his slip-up. A powerful slash from Him, and Chrom was sent flying into the wall, with Robin yet attempting to recover. His sword slid itself into Robin's side, pinning him down, and He picked up Robin's Thoron. As Chrom pushed himself up, leaning on Falchion for support, He sent a bolt of that energy towards him. But, this time, there was no friendly bolt to destroy that hostile one. Moments later, Robin was dead as well, having suffered the same fate as Frederick. And, at this, He simply laughed.

"We can't finish the story like this!" Saying those words as if it wasn't His fault, He turned his blade upside down, and stabbed it into the ground. I saw its crossguard, an hourglass emplaced upon it, and blue sands began to run through its neck as my vision darkened to black. A result of both my anguish, forever unvoiced for that time, and of the sands of time running back from whence they came.

* * *

That's when I last felt like this. The last chief now lies dead at my feet, his body already fading away into smoke. They will be harder soon enough. These Risen still haven't strengthened. Newborns. They will in time. Despite having been battling nothing but Risen, there is still blood to clean off my blades. I pull out an unblemished piece of cloth that I had taken from the convoy for such purposes, and clean the blades of the blood. I then clean the handles, and my hands, so that I need not worry about blood soaking them in their sheaths. Then I store them in their sheaths as blood runs back into my hands, a result from the multiple wounds I had sustained. Nothing I won't survive.

The world has once more become something of the word "quiet". The sounds of battle still sound out from behind the convoy wagons, as relative to me, but the immediate area is once more quiet. I stand alone in the center of a now empty battlefield, the ground covered with scuffs where feet had once tread, my own, and my opponents'. One alive, and the others the same, but in a different sense of the word. One burdened by the thoughts of her past, and the others without any burden except that of having a unquenchable desire to kill.

A gust of wind picks up a few grains of dust, sending them into the air, and the leaves on the trees rustle, oblivious to had what just occurred. I lift up my hand, and look at the metal that covers the glove underneath. Droplets of blood sit on it, unmoved by the change in gravity. My arm quietly requests that I let my arm hang back down, a question asked by the soreness I feel by holding it up. My legs ask the same question, except for me to sit down. I can abide by the request of my arms, but not those of my legs.

Back then, I would not have been able to survive against such odds. I would have asked for Sumia to step back, away from Him, only to call her back when He had left. I would have known that I wouldn't be able to survive against such overbearing odds. The first three would have wounded me, one way or another, and the next five would have at least brought me to my knees. After that, I would have been overwhelmed, wounds covering my body, my armor broken in countless places, my Blade-Lance halves lying in my still gripping hands.

And I would have been afraid. I would consciously consider the fact that they outnumbered Sumia and I by a huge margin. I might have called out for Robin to send support. Robin would have listened to me. Considering the force on the other side of the wagons, she might have sent Wellspring, or maybe Frederick. Frederick at least would be able to handily absorb those attacks without any worries, and Wellspring might have been able to kill them before they could even make an attack.

I would have simply fought by their side, and most likely distracted by them in sheer awe of their combat capabilities. I would have wanted to be like them, even if I may have been better than them in another time and place. I would have wanted to fight like them without anything helping me to do so. I would have wanted to fight like that under my own power, strength and endurance to wield the weapons I carried correctly, considering I already had the skill. After that battle, I would have trained myself to do so.

I turn my head back to the convoy, where Robin still stands on top of a wagon. Sumia and Wellspring, considering that I can no longer see them, are most likely on the other side of the wagon wall. Robin looks at me, and across the now empty battleground. A visible nod from her, and a responsatory one from me. I allow myself to heave a sigh. I wonder if Wellspring might have been able to survive that. No matter. I turn my eyes back to the front.

Off in the distance, the sun inches towards the horizon. Inches in my perspective. Somewhere across the sea, over the continent of Valm, maybe, the sun is rising. Some distance to the East, people may be beginning to light lamps in preparation for the night. Though, considering, it's more likely that they may be turning in for the day. As for us, we might keep marching a little bit before the sun sets, but it's far more likely that we would set up camp soon after the battle. Most likely on my side of the bridge.

I take notice of my vain attempts to keep my mind active against my will. I want to keep my mind off of the present, away from the people whom I had just defended. But, at the same time, I'm afraid of letting my mind wander to the past. Both the past I had lived, and the past that Emmeryn had claimed to see. I want to think about the type of person I was in Emmeryn's mind, but I don't know enough of the past she had been referring to. I shake my head in a vain attempt to rid myself of the dull throbbing in my head, and I walk back to the wagons.

For a moment, I consider vaulting the wagons to lend aid to the currently still-in-combat forces of the rest of the convoy. However, considering the population of the area for the size of the bridge, I can't help but feel as if I might get in the way. I knock twice on the wagon Robin stands on, and, somehow, she notices. We exchange eye contact. The eyes of one who can see next to everything, and the eyes of one who has seen too much of something. How would such an exchange go? 'Tis a question to ponder for the future. But I've already pondered it, haven't I?

After a moment, Robin nods, a smile crossing her face. There is a tinge of sympathy in it. No such smile crosses my face. I just return her nod, turn around, and sit against the side of the convoy. My injuries aren't severe enough to warrant emergency action, but Lissa should take a look at it sometime. I don't need to bother her immediately, though. She probably already has her hands full with the fighters on the other side of the wagon wall.

The road ahead of us is clear, and Robin is finally enacting her strategy of clearing our rear so that we won't get surrounded again. Sumia will most likely find her Pegasus tomorrow, soon after we begin marching once more. And, a day or two after that, we will arrive at the gate to Ferox, The Longfort, where Raimi will assume Chrom a bandit, and a battle will spark. My final action for this scene, however, is allowing myself the sleep that my sore body so badly craves. The sounds of battle continue to echo from the other side of the wagons, and the commands that Robin calls decide how that battle plays out. There are no screams of anguish, a sign that all is well, and that all are still alive.

Even as I know that sleep will elude me despite any of my attempts, I close my eyes and create a silence within myself that blocks out all sound. The sound of absolutely nothing is terrifying. Deafeningly loud. I can hear it. It is a sound unlike any other, and I fear the day that the world will be similarly quiet without my efforts. The mental peace that the lacking of sound creates is far from the peace that I wholeheartedly desire, but that peace is long forgotten, and beggars can never be choosers.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Edits:  
-Replaced the (Insert Line Divide) notes with ACTUAL LINES. Please excuse the mishap. -facepalm**

**Hello readers~! This is the writer of Chronic coming to you live from the computer!... And from the email account that said writer owns. My greatest and utter thanks for the reviews~ I cannot describe just how overjoyed I was. TuT ((Wasn't kidding when I said that I'm constantly checking my email. ^^")) I hope this chapter is just as enjoyable as the previous, considering how much backstory I stuffed into this one xD ((And seriously, once again, thank you for the reviews. They really made my day~))**

_((Complete Inspiration for this chapter stems from the Vocaloid song "I Can Hear It", as subbed by BerrySubs, considering that I can't find it otherwise.)) _


	10. Chapter 10 - Hypervelocity

Chapter 10 – Hypervelocity

Considering the situation that had happened earlier today, I shouldn't be all that surprised that we decided to camp here for tonight. Then again, I think that I may have half-expected it, though only subconsciously. If one could communicate with one's subconscious, what would one discover about oneself? That's one question with an answer that one may never find. Too many ones, not enough zeros, and a question as to why I'm thinking about numbers when I should be thinking about the future. Then again, it is good, sometimes, to find distractions to remove your stress from the world.

"Chalysane, you should know that it's unhealthy not to eat." I turn my head away from my stare towards the trees and towards an approaching Robin. She doesn't have a weapon on her, the first thing I notice, though I assume that she stored them in the convoy. After these thoughts, I respond to her comment. "I know. I'm not all that hungry." My words are part lie and part truth, mainly due to the fact that I can ignore hunger up to a certain point. Then again, Robin doesn't care as she hands me a bowl. "Eat anyway. You seem like the one who wouldn't notice if someone threw it in her face." That's a harsh way of putting it… No matter.

Most of the sound that fills the empty space between us comes from Vaike and whoever he might be conversing with at the time. And, based on observations involving Lieutenant Wellspring, it seems that everyone calls him by his first name and not his last, nevermind Lieutenant. I'm quite curious as to why that is, though. "Are you sure you're okay?" I glance over at Robin as I swallow another bite of the food that she gave me. "I'm fine. Lissa works well, and I can tell she'll be-" "That's not what I'm talking about." I take another bite to fill the now empty space in my mouth as I turn my gaze back forwards. Her true question had already been apparent in my mind, and I had simply tried to dodge it.

"Are you sure you're okay when Wellspring knocks you to the ground like that? You've been staring at him…" She must think that I'm irritated at him. It would make sense to be irritated at him, actually. I mean, who wouldn't be when a person continuously pushes you to the ground and claims it's good for you? "I'm okay with it." It's somewhat the truth. I'm not exactly okay with it, but I'm not exactly irritated by it. Didn't I already have this thought process…? No matter.

"But how are you okay with it?" Robin, why do you always have to ask the questions that make sense? Then again, that makes sense. It wouldn't if it didn't. "I've dealt with worse." How vague. It's not a good idea to be vague around Robin. Note to self, try to include more specifics. But Robin doesn't immediately respond to this one. Instead she takes a bite of her own food. I follow her example and do the same. Frederick really is something of a pyro-type. Especially considering all of those leaves that he just added onto the flames. Thankfully, he's still Frederick, which means he's prepared if things get out of hand. Note, the water bucket next to the fire pit.

On the other hand, Vaike is getting far too much amusement out of this. Then again, it'd be hard not to be amused. Frederick never really smiles at much, and him smiling at something like this must be amusement in and of itself. "You answer my questions as if you don't know the exact answer yourself." As I hear Robin's words, I blink my eyes, noting how comfortable it feels having them closed, then open them again. I must be tired. It would make sense considering the time. It must be nine at night already. If I'm not mistaken, the Lieutenant's lights-out time is about an hour from now. Considering the exhaustion on his face, however, it might occur earlier. He's the only person who really cares about the lights-out time.

"That's an interesting way of putting it." After I take and swallow another bite, I answer Robin's question. The food isn't bad, but I can't exactly tell if it were good. To me, however, edibility is what matters the most, and I would be able to tell if Sully or another certain person cooked. Then again, she hasn't created the oddest dish, if we're thinking in those terms. "Do you really not remember your past?" An odd unexpected pain in my chest, and I put down the spoonful of food that I was about to eat. As if there was a memory I'm on the vague of remembering, but I can't bring to the front of my mind no matter how hard I try. Frustrating beyond belief, but curiosity-inducing at the same time.

I don't want to listen to Robin, but I really want to hear more of what she thinks at the same time. It feels far different from when I was talking to her in the previous timelines. Is it because she woke up in a battleground and- … I raise the spoonful of food to my mouth and bite down on it. That would make sense. Normally, she wakes up talking to Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa, with the main negativity directed towards her being suspicion. A feeling of being helplessly misunderstood would permeate her memories, considering how early this emotion was felt. However, said emotional taint would be dispelled by Emmeryn, and replaced with dedication to Chrom, as he was the one who found her, and sided with her, trusted her, and believed her, despite Frederick's suspcion.

But in this case, the memories that she creates would be tainted by fear of being killed by people who had nothing but malice for her. She was surrounded by people who meant to kill her… Until… I turn my eyes and look at her. She had been staring at me this entire time. Until I came towards her, arm wrapped in mana, dealing death to those who wished to harm her, and saved her life. I was the one to dispel that fear, and I replaced it with dedication to me, the one who knew who she was when she couldn't remember anything. A light in the dark. Her saviour.

How long has it been since she asked me that question? "I don't. At least, I don't remember what Emmeryn says happened to me." That's the truth, right? The truth with some details omitted. "Then how do you know who I am?" The fire that I can see once more in her eyes is a clear message that I won't be able to escape her question this time. I don't dread the question. I simply dread the fact that I won't be able to answer it. How should I answer that question? "I don't know." And omit the words "how to answer that question." It sounds truthful enough, even if it's a lie. Lead with the truth, and even if you end with a lie, and you'll sound it every time.

But how does that sound to the person who sees me the way that she does? It sounds like I should know, but I don't. "I've talked to you before. I know that we were friends. I just can't say exactly when." Now that sounds much more realistic. I actually can't say exactly when because when does a timeline that will never exist occur? The answer is that it doesn't. The timeline never existed. As such, there is no answer to the question "When did it occur", and there will never be an answer. It's all part of a world that we don't live in. Though there is a "correct" way to ask the question that she wants an answer to, I don't want to think about it now.

"Who is he?" I look away from the ground, which was where I was staring as I answered her previous. Who is he? That's a good question. "Who're you referring to?" She shrugs casually, seemingly as she refers to Him as Garrick referred to Him. "Ghosty." I can't help but smile at the new nickname that He seems to have received. It's oddly cute considering Him, but it seems to fit Him. "Ghosty… He's a person that's been tormenting me as long as I can remember. I call Him by emphasized pronouns, but Ghosty seems to fit." Robin's eyes shine with curiosity in the firelight. "Don't you know His name?" During the first few timelines, I think I did. But as time passed, his name slipped away with the other memories. "I don't."

"Whoever He is, you don't seem to like Him." I laugh at Robin's words. Not liking is an understatement. Saying those words pain me, however. "He hasn't exactly been amiable to me." Robin tilts up her bowl, draining it, and lets it back down with an exclaimed sigh. "At least He didn't cut off your arm." Not that you would know, as I impulsively lift my hand to the place on my armor where the sword passed through it. The scar still stings a little, actually. Lissa will definitely become a skilled healer one day, especially considering her talent, but that isn't to say that she's the best now.

Robin glances at me and turns her eyes to the ground, and I force my hand away from my arm. I wouldn't be surprised if she felt personally responsible for the fact that I momentarily had my arm cut off. It was due to something even I couldn't have foreseen, not that I could readily say that, anyways. "You fought like you were used to it." But instead of apologizing, she has either failed to feel guilt, or she put that feeling of guilt on the backburner to ask an unexpected question. Considering Robin, I can assume that it was the latter. I take a breath and hold it for a moment before letting it back out silently. Another question that I can't simply answer.

Subject changing time. "Chrom and Frederick still suspicious of me?" Robin proceeds to lean against the wagon as I am, as I watch as Wellspring slowly becomes more and more so inclined to put out the bonfire that Frederick has slowly built up. Then again, it seems like he's the only person that cares about setting the forest aflame, as if there hadn't been enough forest fires already. "Frederick's definitely less suspicious of you. He was making comments as to how you faced odds that he wouldn't, and did so without turning back even once. Except to provide for Sumia's safety, of course. As for Chrom…"

She squints as the flames of the pyre roar higher than ever, causing Wellspring to actually stand up and threaten to put out the said flames with Chrom backing him at this point, though the latter doesn't seem all that worried. "Chrom worries that you're far too willing to throw yourself into danger no one else would. As do I. He specifically references your severed arm incident." She lifts up her hand against the light of the flames even as they slowly begin to weaken to a more so acceptable point. "I would reference your most recent act of valiance." She would reference my engagement earlier today, and specifically when I sent Sumia back to face the platoon's worth of Risen on my own.

Unlike Robin, I can stare straight into the flames. More often than not, the energy generated by the use of tomes can create light much more powerful than that of a flame, and that's something that I'm used to. "In my view, it isn't so much valiance as it is…" In fact, the heat from the flames actually feels somewhat good. After a few moments, however, the flames weaken to a point where the heat isn't nearly as noticeable as it was before. In the pause, Robin sighs as she tries to find an appropriate word to describe how she feels. But there is no other word, and silence is all her mind has to offer.

After a short amount of time in this silence, Robin straightens her pose out and takes my bowl. She returns a few minutes later, just in time for Wellspring to say something to Chrom and stand up. "All right! Frederick, put out the fire! Rest up for the march tomorrow!" There's the light's out command, and I sit down against the wagon in response to it. Or, at least, tonight's variant of it. Considering, I believe he was much more lenient than he was during other nights. Most likely due to the battle we had today. I wonder what he thinks of Robin and I now? The flames of the pyre that was once lighting up the night quickly disappear into ashes, as catalyzed by water, resulting in a billowing cloud of steam and smoke, and darkness takes back its place in the night.

As Robin sits down next to me, leaning against the wagon in the darkness, I try to give voice to her unspoken thoughts. "I'm throwing myself into battle with too much force, right?" She turns her head to me as I see her from the edges of my own sight. I've talked about this topic before. "How I rush into it too quickly without giving myself a safety net to fall back upon?" How I fight as if I have nothing left to lose? Yeah. It was probably the fifth timeline. The one where I died for the first time. Chrom was the one that talked with me about it then.

"It's scary, right? How I have little to no regard-" "That isn't it." As she cuts me off, she takes off her gloves, upon her hand the symbol of the Grimleal silhouetting itself ever so vaguely in the darkness. That's what I've always been told when this conversation comes up. I scare people. "You make sense, but it's not right on the mark." Placing the gloves in her lap, she stretches her arms above her head , intertwining her fingers in various ways as she does so.

"After you take your gloves off after having worn them for a while, doesn't it feel nice?" I instinctively glance down at my hands as she puts her gloves back on. "Try doing things you normally do with your gloves on, but do them with your gloves off. It feels unusual, but it feels nice." As her movements reduce down to minor ones, I find it challenging to notice anything that she's doing with only my peripherals. As I glance at her, I realize that she has her eyes open and towards the cloudy sky.

"It's like you're living at terminal velocity." She's smiling, slightly, but, at the same time, it seems as if she's somewhat stressed by her thoughts. Unable to turn, unable to slow down, with nothing to stop you from hurting yourself should you trip. Like someone forced your hand. "That's how you feel having no memory, isn't it?" It's a question that I ask her, and she turns her head towards me at the sound of my voice. At least, that's what I think I see from the edge of my vision, and she soon answers my question in the affirmative. "… Yeah. That's kinda is how it feels."

If she had seen it before, she doesn't remember. She wants to stop and look at the world around her as she falls towards whatever destiny has in store for her. However, the world doesn't give her a chance to. Instead, it forces event upon event upon her. To anyone else, it might just seem like a normal day. However, to Robin, it could feel as if she's being rushed, pushed to go faster than she ever should. She's forced to live at what feels to be terminal velocity, unable to go any faster than life, but still living at a speed that she never believed possible to survive in. A terrifying speed.

"You should sleep, Robin. Do as the Lieutenant says." Her response, if there is any, is silent to my ears, as she simply adjusts how she lies on the ground. Maybe that's her response: To listen to me.

I, on the other hand, want to live faster than life. I want to reach the end of this fall as quickly as possible. I've seen the world around me countless times, and almost none of it seems new to me anymore. I'm already trying to live as fast as I can, but I can't live any faster than anyone else can. I'm living at just the same speed that Robin is. But it's not the same, is it? I want to live faster, and Robin wants to live slower. That alone makes it different, even if it's the same. A terrifying speed.

No matter how fast life is, however, I want to live faster.

* * *

**Author's note:**

_Edits:_  
_-Removed the "it" after "replaced" when referring to Emmeryn dispelling the suspicion towards Robin. Change = Tense-Based._  
_-Changed "forgotten" to "received" when referring to Chronic's Wielder receiving a nickname._  
_^-Same paragraph: fixed capitalization errors when referring to Chronic's Wielder: Two instances of the the word "Him"._  
_^^-In reference to capitalization errors: I shall no longer reference these corrections in future edits._  
_^-Same paragraph: Added the word "me" after "tormenting": Receiver of the verb._  
_-Added a sentence referring to when Robin does not apologize for Chalysane losing her arm: "Considering Robin, I can assume that it was the latter." Latter refers to the fact that Robin actually does feel guilt, and she simply put said guilt aside to ask a more important question._  
_-Changed "the" to "that" when referring to Frederick in the bonfire sentence._  
_-Added an apostrophe "s" to the end of that when Robin references how she feels, answering Chalysane in the affirmative._  
_-Changed "isn't" to "is" when referring to Robin's and Chalysane's sense of the speed of life not being the same._

_**Hey! Guess what!? I tried reading the chapter to myself aloud!... Hence all the edits. I doubt I would have caught most of 'em if I were just reading it back over.**_

**Hypervelocity… What a wonderfully interesting term! I don't exactly know why, but that word has fascinated me for as long as I've known it. It sounds so cool. And terminal velocity sounds so… forced…**

**Two parts that I'm really proud of in this chapter, as short as it is. But that's a sidenote. ****On another note, I might have spent more time trying to write this chapter than one might have thought. But those two parts make it all better in my head xP **

**Fun fact! The original name for this chapter was supposed to be "Just Getting Started." **

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter x3**


	11. Chapter 11 - Veteran

Chapter 11 – Veteran

"Chr- Chrom! Wait! Don't just-" "Don't say it Robin. Go back to the group." It would seem that Robin continues to try and keep him off of me even now. I respect her valiance, but… "Chrom, You need to-" "Don't tell me what I need to do. This is mine to worry about, not yours. Now go inside." I nod once, a message for Robin to hopefully see. "Y-Yes, sir." And with that, her footsteps depart. The other pair of footsteps quickly approach me, and I steel myself for what I'm about to endure.

"Chalysane, what the HELL was THAT?!" Chrom forces me to turn around with a strong pull on my shoulder, pushes me against a wall, and holds me by the collar of my breastplate. My heart pounds painfully as I instinctively feel a sense of fear. "You didn't even CARE that she took a spear through her side!" Says you, but you won't get a response by saying that to me. "But how you treated her is the worst…" I force his hand off of me and push him away, and I turn to follow Robin's path to the gate. I may have sent her away, but that doesn't mean-

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" And then he pushes me against the wall again, thankfully refraining from holding me back the way he did before, but nevertheless causing fear to spike through my consciousness. I swear to truth, if these walls were spiked, I would be dead. But they aren't. And they won't be. Chrom's voice lowers itself into a quietly spoken, malevolently toned growl. "You were the one who told her to have confidence. You convinced her to come. This is _your_ fault that she's like this now." Do you think what you said would have made any difference? Of course not. Because you didn't say anything back then, did you?

"She would have come anyways." This is the answer I say to him instead. "She would have come, and we would have found that Pegasus. If she didn't calm it down, I would have. But I let her do it, because it was for the best." I can fight without a Pegasus, and, though she can as well, she needs both the confidence and the advantage given from riding it more than I do. It helps increase her survivability. "I did what I could, and you have no right to blame me for what happened to her." I push him away from me once more, and we stand facing each other, separated by two meters of space.

* * *

The following day, we had continued our march. We came across the Pegasus just as always. "That's interesting… A Pegasus in armor but without a rider. Not every day you see something like that." Wellspring commented on the obvious as he and Chrom had approached it then. "It looks like it's injured. Maybe it's rider was fighting the Ri-" And then it reacted with the fear-inspired violence that it always had. Chrom dodged out of the way in time, though Wellspring took a wing to the face before doing the same. "Gods… The things hit just as hard as they always have." Chrom glanced at Wellspring as he mused about being hit in the face by a pegasus wing before expressing his own opinion on the situation. "The beast is crazed… It probably was the Risen that killed her rider."

I had been standing off to the side, waiting for the moment that Sumia would walk in. However, as I soon realized, Sumia hadn't been present. I lifted my foot to take a step towards the Pegasus to calm it myself, but Wellspring called for Sumia before I let my foot back down. "I know someone who knows what to do. Sumia!" Her footsteps quickly approached as she called out her response. "Yeah, Ordin?" I opened my mouth to warn her of the rock she tended to trip on, but she automatically stepped over it. Wellspring, in my view, was much more a confidence booster than anything I had seen before.

"You have a way with Pegasi, right? Well, any animal, but you know what I mean." And without another word, she approached the Pegasus just as she had always done before. "Easy now… You're okay. I won't hurt you…" The scene with the Pegasus had always been one of my favorites. At one point, most likely during the second timeline, I had imagined that she had also been saying it to me. But every time I experienced the wonder that was her way with animals, I couldn't help but find myself calmed. "Isn't she amazing? And she calls it nothing…" Wellspring's admiration and affection for the person who somehow calmed the Pegasus within seconds is apparent in his voice.

"You all go on ahead. I'll dress her wounds and catch up as soon as we're able." Wellspring stepped in before Chrom could speak. "If that's your tune, then I'll wait as well. 'Sides. I know Chrom can handle himself." But he glanced at me when he said those words. Sumia turned to him to protest "Ordin, you should-" But Wellspring turned to her and countered. "You can't get rid of me like that. How d'you think I'll respond?" And so Wellspring stayed behind with Sumia as the rest of us marched onwards.

* * *

The air grew colder quickly, as the world reminded the Shepherds just how quickly environments could change. As for me, however, I already knew the tale the world wished to tell us. The cold can't reach me, however. My armor keeps me at a constant temperature. One would have thought otherwise, initially, as I did. Metal has a lower specific heat, and, as such, cools faster. Cold metal touching the skin can quickly lead to frostbite. Despite this fact, I'm under the impression that my armor does not cool nearly as easily as other metals. At least, considering that I'm not cold and I can still feel my extremities as I normally feel them. Perhaps it's made of the same material that Frederick's armor is made of. He doesn't seem all that cold either.

In the case of most of the other Shepherds, however, they've donned the heavier clothing I made sure that we had before we left. The person who surprises me, though, is Wellspring. Or, at least, rumors of him. I've been told that he would feel quite at home in the weather. In fact, Vaike is actually under the impression that he claimed to have been tempted to take off his armor. I don't believe this, however, considering that no one can confirm this suspicion.

As the silhouette of the Southfort slowly comes into view, I find Robin once more by my side. Her coat has actually served her quite well by itself in this weather, as she has not put on any further layering of clothes. "This is the fortress that Wellspring was referring to earlier?" I glance up at the peaks of the silhouette. Just as impressive as always. Wellspring was claiming that he knew the captain of the guard that oversaw the defense of the Longfort. "If he mentioned "Longfort", yes it is. Covers the entire length of the Ylisse-Ferox border."

The look on Robin's face holds a sort of reverence, and, at the same time, wariness. "Have relations not been good…?" I sigh at her belief. Then again, considering the way I worded it, her misunderstanding makes sense."I'm pretty sure it's because of brigands and the likes, courtesy of Plegia." Frederick rides up from behind as he hears our conversation. "They've grown wary of any foreigners due to the raids. They're not exactly hospitable, but they don't mean to be hostile."

The silhouette of the Longfort gains details, slowly turning from a silhouette into an actual object. And Sumia and Wellspring are still not in sight… They'll be along soon. Then again, wouldn't Sumia be delayed by the extra weight of Wellspring? I clench my fist in an effort to concentrate and crush my anxiety out of existence. It works quite well in helping me to relax, but it doesn't remove all of the said anxiety. Frederick continues. "Entering Ferox simply calls for a bit of diplomacy."

Chrom seems to have somehow overheard us despite the gusting blows of the ice-filled wind. "Negotiation's not my strong suit, but I'll do my best. I know the rest of you will do the same. What we do here reflects upon Ylisse." That seems quite the statically said statement. Forced almost. There's a sense of nervousness in his voice that I'm not exactly used to. The clenched fist is especially convincing, as Frederick might put it. Either he knows it might not go well, or he can already notice the Feroxi guard mobilizing. How would I know? You're asking someone who's been through this many times.

As we close on the gate, Frederick gains the ability to notice it as well. "Trouble in the wind, milord." As if the cold wasn't trouble enough. The coats will reduce one's agility if the cold hasn't done so already. "The Feroxi Guard are mobilizing." And then Robin whispers something to herself that catches my attention. "Just as I expected." I almost do a double-take. She was analyzing my expression to see further than she could alone. How did I hear her? Good question. Apparently, she can't hear herself over the wind, and she's walking next to me. I decide to play upon this. "Got a plan, Robin?" A confidently made nod. "Been working on it since Frederick said wary."

I turn my attention back forwards. So she simply read Frederick's words and decided to plan for the worst possible scenario. Smart. The glare on her face slightly intensifies as the battle starts to play out in her gleaming eyes. I can't help but feel the vaguest hint of discomfort as the extent of her focus is broken momentarily by a comment. "Your stare at the ramparts told me it was a good idea." So she started to worry about it as she saw that I was. She actually was analyzing me as well. Is it a positive or a negative? I can't tell.

"Robin. Report to Chrom and Frederick. They'll want you to organize our formation." A confident nod, and she increases her speed to move up next to the pair. As for me, I stay back and turn my head in a similar direction. Sumia and Wellspring are yet to be seen. Sumia for the situation about to occur, and Wellspring for what might be his combat capabilities. Mainly Sumia.

I count the seconds as they soon turn into minutes as we quickly approach the wall. They still have yet to appear."Kellam, prepare to defend Chrom if the need arises." He jerks in surprise as I say his name, but he nods in response. Back-up created, though Kellam's armor's ability to deflect spears in that armor is questionable. But a back-up is called a back-up for a reason: Not the first plan. And, instead of taking his position relatively away from the Shepherds, he stands relatively close to Chrom. They all fail to notice him, but the one who does notice, Robin, is the one who matters the most. She glances back at me, and I stare back at her until she turns her eyes back front.

"Halt! Who goes there?!" Raimi's voice, though muted by the wind and snow, sounds out just as sharply as it would if there were no wind or snow. Chrom's own voice sounds just as confident, though slightly less sharp, and more appropriately muted. "In the name of House Ylisse, I seek audience with the Khans!" Raimi follows with a laugh, and a claim unlike any I've heard before. "So you've arrived? Hah! Surrender! We have you surrounded!" Frederick darts in with his claim. "Hold, milady! We are not-" But Raimi cuts him off without mercy. "Don't even try, Brigand. You aren't Ylisseans, and I have the authority to fell you where you stand. Now heed my command, or prepare to taste Feroxi steel."

And then Frederick responds with a malice which I didn't expect of him. "And you will heed my words. You stand against Prince Chrom, the Exalt's own blood. We ask for naught except an audience. If Ylissean steel must meet with Feroxi steel to gain this audience, then meet they shall. Should this occur, I will guarantee you this: Feroxi steel shall bend." Chrom does not respond with surprise at Frederick's challenge. Feroxi shall only bend to strength. Wellspring must have told them this. He is, after all, used to the Feroxi weather, as claimed by the Shepherds.

Raimi laughs at our challenge, but responds with respect. "I like your mettle, "Ylisseans". Prove yourselves on the battlefield, then. Let us settle this the Feroxi way." Chrom clears his arms of his coat, which begins to billow behind him as his cape normally would, stayed only by the strings of its hood tied around him, clearly ready for combat. "Emmeryn won't like this at all… But if this is the only way…" And Raimi calls out her command. "Ready, are you? Very well then! Attack!"

A rush of wings, and the sound of spears piercing a path through the freezing winds as they leave gloved hands. A pair of feet land upon the ground in front of me, its accompanying body landing in a crouch, as a Pegasus flies forth towards Chrom. Wellspring and Sumia, just in time. Chrom disappears from where he stands as a blur of white and blue flies past, the spears piercing into the ground at the same time. Too close. Much too close. Closer than I had ever seen it before. The Pegasus flew past almost exactly when the spears hit the ground.

Sticking out the ground, however, are three spears instead of four. The first thought to cross my mind is the belief that either Sumia, Chrom, or the Pegasus were hit. If the Pegasus were hit, the three would have crashed onto the ground, leaving either Sumia or Chrom. The two reappear in the sky, above the formation. Chrom sits as straight as he always was after having been saved, which leaves a single choice.

"Lissa, Sumia's hit. Prepare to heal her wound when they land." As I say the words, Wellspring suddenly stands back up, turning instantly to face me. "Wait, what!? How do you know!?" I draw my Blade-Lance in preparation for the battle, noting how the handles feel in my gloved hands. I don't believe I had ever held them without gloves before. "Circumstance. Lieutenant, report to Robin. She probably already has a position for you." Considering how Robin looks into the air with her distressed expression, I can assume that she knows that Sumia's hit.

As the Lieutenant double-takes at me before looking at robin, I glance at Robin for a command. She motions for someone to come over, and Wellspring dashes towards her. She nods, and then motions once more, the only person left in my direction being me, directing me towards the left flank stairway. She wants me to spearhead the attack on the left flank, and breach the wall via the stairway. With a nod, I dash towards the group of four targets.

It would seem that "ghosty", as Robin referred to him, had not interfered here. It would make the most sense. Adding troops to Ferox would only boost our chances of making it through the coming conflicts. As a result, this battle is easier to think about than the previous ones.

Four targets guarding the western stairway. A knight, a lancer, and two archers. Link the two halves, and lead with a thrust into the knight, which first caves the armor, the pierces it. Draw it out, and spin it to deflect the thrust by the lancer, the redirect the momentum so that a blade passes through him. Delink the halves, dodge one arrow, and deflect the other with a swift angling of my rightward half. There's only so much I can do with a Blade-Lance without before forced to disarm myself. I should probably go back to carrying a tome with me. No matter. There's only two enemies left on this flank.

A few moments later, after pulling my Blade-Lance halves out of two archer bodies, each with one half in their person, not to mention after taking the key from the body of one of the archers, I glance back at Robin. The other side is cleared, but she's obviously distracted by Lissa, who's still working on Sumia, with Wellspring and Chrom onlooking. It would seem as if they aren't exactly too willing to listen to Robin, as Wellspring is still Chrom's main strategist, and Wellspring is clearly too distracted by Sumia for obvious reasons. This really is NOT the time.

I quickly clean my blades before sheathing them, and I dash over to Robin. "Robin, what's holding them back. Lissa should be able to handle it." Irritatingly enough, it's just as I predicted. "Sumia's wound is worse than it seems. The spear's tip broke off inside her. Lissa stopped the bleeding by sealing the wound with the staff, but Sumia needs immediate medical attention to remove the spearhead. Simply sealing the wound isn't going to work, and the spearhead will shred her insides if she moves. Chrom's worried over Sumia, and he trusts Wellspring over me, and Wellspring is obviously distracted." A powerless Robin. This is not supposed to exist. Fine then.

"Chrom, Wellspring, get up now. Stop being useless and fight." That's the first time I referred to Wellspring without using Lieutenant. Well, there's a first time for everything. "What the hell-" "Shut up Chrom, she'll live. Wellspring, you're a tactician, and you should know better than everyone that you can't stop fighting to care for someone who can't fight anymore. Now GO." I don't care what convinces them to stand up, may it be logic, or simply my glare, all that matters is that they stand up and they take the key I hold out to them.

"Robin. You're a better tactician than he is simply for being able to put aside your worries. That's proof in and of itself. Go join them. Show them how a true tactician acts." She nods, though she glances at Sumia before she begins to run. A message conveyed silently that I respond to vocally. "I know." I kneel down next to Sumia, who cries silently at the pain, and I analyze the situation at hand. I've seen things like this before. And I've been helpless before.

But that's not the case this time, is it? "Lissa, find me a knife. Clean." A healer's hands are almost never bloodied. Sometimes, however, there are some things a staff just can't fix. A staff can't take out the point of a spear. It can repair the flesh around it, but that doesn't help as long as the object is in there. If I had a Recover classed staff, then I would be able to work without any worries, but all I have is a Heal classed staff. As Robin joins the group gathering at the eastern stairway, causing me to assume that no one found the key over there, Lissa returns with the knife. "Good." Sumia forces her eyes open to see me holding the knife in a not-so-comforting position. Like I'm about to stab her. But she doesn't cry out in fear, only clenching her teeth in a terrified effort not to cry out.

The gate on the eastern flank opens, and the Shepherds rush onto the top level of the deck. I reposition the knife in my hand, holding it as I would when cutting with a steaknife. Not exactly the best metaphor, but how else do I describe it? "Lissa, use the staff to try and staunch the pain, contain the damage." Lissa readies herself. She clearly isn't ready for this kind of thing, but it needs to be done. "Sumia. I'm not going to lie, this is going to hurt. Try and keep still." She forces a nod as she tenses herself in preparation for the predicted pain. I can't start yet. I need something for her to bite on.

C'mon… Search. There's got to be something. We're in a forest. There. This twig should suffice. Gods damn it, it'd be best if I had another person here. "Lissa, ready?" She holds her staff fearfully, though confidently. She has no plan on failing. I take a deep breath as I hold the knife to the scar from when Lissa used the staff to seal the wound. I've done this before. And I cut into her flesh as she screams out. I narrow my hearing to silence her scream so that I can concentrate, but not before I hear Wellspring call out her name, and not before I hear Robin order him to focus.

I had done this before. I had dealt with the same situation. However, I didn't have the luxury of having someone else to prevent the pain. It was potentially one of the worst scenarios of pain that I have ever experienced. I have no words to describe it. I don't want to think back to it. It's nothing like a simple arrow wound. An actual spearhead, Broken off inside your body . Similar to an arrowhead, except much larger, and with a level of pain-causing ability far removed from the former.

And then the spearhead lies on the ground, covered in blood. "Lissa, the staff." Her work was skillful, precise beyond her experience. Now it's my turn. She hands the staff to me, and I set to work. As I draw forth the mana from it, I can feel its reserves nearing depletion. "Lissa, get a needle and thread." In an actual medical situation, removing the spearhead was possibly the worst decision I could have made. Such an action should only be made in an actual sterilized environment, with several supporting operants, and nothing like the plains upon which Sumia lay. However, with the help of staves, individually handled medical operations like this are actually survivable. I employ the last of the mana to heal the most critical of the damage to her internal organs, but the wound still lies open.

Lissa returns, needle and thread on hand, and I take it from her without another word. "Cloth, clean, and something like wine, alcoholic." Quickly stitch up the wound. Sumia's screaming has reduced back to quiet, restrained crying, and her body tenses each time I push the needle into her. "Hard part's done. Stay focused, though." I say those words both to Sumia and myself, and I take another deep breath to restrain the shivering I feel falling upon me like waves on a beach, raining ruin on the feeble sand castles built along the waterlines. Almost there. Lock the stitching, and cut.

C'mon Lissa, you're the last piece to this puzzle. She's most likely searching for the alcohol still. "Lissa, just bring the cloth!" And she comes running. I was right. I know where the alcohol is. I took care to put it where no one could get it. Didn't want anyone getting drunk on a mission, but it has it's uses. Especially in a situation like this. Gods damn it, wasn't there supposed to be someone with a heal staff on the eastern side? I convey the location of the alcohol to Lissa, who quickly runs to retrieve it, and I go to bandage up Sumia's wound, now closed, and in a better condition than before, if far from the best. Why the hell isn't there another staff- Oh well that explains. It snapped when the Knight fell. Why would a cursing Knight have such a fragile tool?!

Here's Lissa with the alcohol. "Thanks." I take the bottle from her hand and pour a bit of the liquid on the wound, causing Sumia to groan in pain, before I put some to her lips. "I don't care if you don't drink, this'll help reduce the pain." The use of the staff to reduce pain and damage from my reckless work was utterly inefficient, but appropriate considering the situation. And with the drops of alcohol, the work is done. By the gods, working to try and protect someone's life without a staff is a battle more stressful than a battle fought to end one. I just want to go to sleep… But I can't do that just yet. And I doubt Wellspring and Chrom'll let me go that easily after hearing Sumia scream like that.

"L-lissa…" I'm stuttering. C'mon Chalysane. Calm down, it was successful. "M-make sure she g-gets plenty of water." The staff's useless now, though. What if someone else got injured? Stand up Chalysane, control your shaking knees. "Th…Thanks Chalys…" Sumia's voice is pained. It scares me. She's okay, but… Focus. Focus focus focus. Dash towards the frontline and assist the others. Don't look back, she's okay. Lissa'll take care of her. She'll be fine. Your work was good. Please, just calm down…

* * *

"But, by the gods, if I ever see you do that to anyone ever a-" "Chrom." We stand, two meters apart, across from each other. Chrom stares directly at the ground and away from me, as I stare straight at him. "If you're going to be like this over an injury, then you're a hopeless leader." He brings his gaze up to meet mine, an expression of enraged shock on his face, which quickly melts to confusion. I wonder what he sees on my face. I wonder who he sees. Does he see the person that he found lying on the ground, or does he see a person with an empty stare? I can't exactly tell what I put on my face anymore. I try to keep the same expression, but my expression gets away from me sometimes.

The cold wind blows across the roof of the fortress, clumps of snowflakes caught on its currents. Chrom's coat blows towards him, hugging his back, as the wind blows in my face. Until, of course, when the wind suddenly ceases to blow. The snowflakes drift to the ground, slowly, as I finish my counter. "I've seen people die. I know what it feels like to lose people who were close to you, or maybe lose someone you love." Despite the snow, however, I can't help but feel as if I'm overheating. "You're lucky. The people you know only got hurt." A gust of wind blows, notably precisely, and Chrom's coat finds itself blown upwards for a short moment before it returns to its place.

I start to walk past him as I tried to do before, though I pause my steps for a moment as I near him. "I request you don't hold me like that, Captain. It scares me a little." As I continue walking, this time through the gate, I contemplate what I mean when I said that it scares me. In all truthfulness, it actually does. I'm actually utterly terrified of being held like that. After all, it's how I was held when He showed me that I hadn't stood a chance against him. I was helpless then, but I'm not helpless anymore, right? I can save lives now. And I can keep up with his speed, I can contest with his strength, and he can't force me to redo things anymore. The arch hanging over my head as I pass underneath it seems higher than it looked like initially.

"Ch-Chalysane? Are you okay? You're… very pale…" Robin had waited for me on the other side of the gate, unwilling to move until the issue had been resolved. "Is… Is Sumia okay?" Such is my main concern. No one had died yet, and this was the closest we had come to losing someone. "I'm sure she's fine. She was fine earlier when we were bringing her in, but you won't be unless we get you inside." My eyes hurt, as does the bridge of my nose, and the throbbing pain in my head just won't go away. "I'm tired, Robin." And soon enough, I find that she's trying to support me, though relatively in vain. I can walk, I'm just… Human. "I'll talk to Wellspring to see if we can't get you a bed, and a wagon if we end up moving again. Don't push yourself." My gratitude, Robin.

I glance back at Chrom. He still stands in the freezing wind, which has once more picked up, and falling snow, which seems to be falling in greater amounts. A few flakes of snow stick to him momentarily before melting away, only to be replaced once more by others. They seem almost like twinkling stars. He seems greatly subdued by his confrontation with me. I can't help but wonder what might have happened if Sumia had actually died. But I don't want to think back to that time. I shiver as a cold streak runs down my back.

I'm so tired of this…

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**So! Who's the Veteran?!**

**By the gods, I'm considering just inserting keyboard random letters because I am sooooo tired. But now I have something to give to you guys when I'm gone over the weekend! I'm pretty sure I'll be posting this chapter someplace away from home. ((And a bit early due to circumstances that may prevent me from posting at my normal time.))**

**Thanks for the reviews. They're really keeping me going x3 This is a positive, not a negative, as some might assume. Especially considering my messed up sleep schedule. This is fun actually xD**

**Psh. Sidenote aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I liked it~ I love it when my stories get away from me: I did not expect to write the scene involving the battle against the Feroxi Guard. I originally intended to completely skip over it, in fact, and write about the dialogue between Chrom and Chalysane. xP ((These runaways always get so…. Interesting~))! Veh. Goodnight =w=**


	12. Chapter 12 - Perfection is a Myth

Chapter 12 – Perfection is a Myth

Many times throughout the life I have lived in the world that I still know as Fire Emblem, and from a time even before that, I have been told that practice will make perfect. I would beg to differ. In my opinion, practice will bring you close to, but never completely to, perfection. There will always be that moment when your hand will slip, when your footing becomes unbased, and the odds play against you. Perfection, as they call it, is a Myth, so long as uncertainty runs rampant in the world, and chance is allowed to roam free. And, as the unspoken, unthought of, and widely unpracticed theory of uncertainty states, "Nothing is ever truly certain."

Thoughts of this genre and subject cross my mind as I sit in the shelter of the wagon I have chosen to reside in. The reasoning behind these thoughts should be obvious. In a situation where she should have escaped unharmed, Sumia found herself injured by a spear. Then again, considering that Wellspring had been riding with her up until moments prior to her act of bravery, it makes sense that she wasn't fast enough to avoid at least one of the spears. But you can't blame Wellspring for that, can you? Nor can you blame the Pegasus, Chrom, or Sumia herself. No one is to blame.

However, there is someone to blame for the screams of pain that she cried out earlier. That person would be me, the one who so recklessly worked to remove the spearhead when it may have been better to leave the wound as it was. To that, I can admit. However, I doubt that one would have been able to move the wounded Sumia with the spearhead still inside her, as doing so would have caused notable internal damage. But I can't help but wonder what might have been the correct choice.

Raimi hasn't returned yet. After she allowed us through the gate, she departed to arrange a meeting with the Khan. While we wait, most of the Shepherds deign to practice several activities to keep warm. Robin seems to have chosen to review the previous battle alongside Wellspring, who surprisingly seems to have been able to keep a considerable focus, despite the recent events. Chrom has chosen to spar with whomever seems willing, and Frederick has once more built a fire despite the cold and lacking of readily available fuel. As for me, I simply choose to sit in the back of this wagon.

When it comes to doing absolutely nothing, one may quickly find it to be immensely tedious, and it may quickly cause one to become notably restless. Those who have trouble focusing on anything find themselves quite privy to this problem, and even those who have ease of focusing may find it easier to actively meditate than to simply do nothing. I, on the other hand, however, have mastered the art of passive meditation. It requires no specific pose, nor a specific point of focus. In fact, entering into a specific pose and focusing on a specific point may very well be active meditation.

Passive meditation, on the other hand, is simply thinking what you wish to think, looking where you wish to look, and positioning yourself however you feel most comfortable, which, as one may assume, may change on a moment's notice. It is the art of passiveness in purity, acceptance, and submission. It is quite akin to sleep, however, in that, eventually, you default to thinking of nothing. It is the passiveness in which you find yourself doing anything that matters the most. It is only in passiveness that one can comfortable do nothing while doing something. I yawn as I think this thought. My eyes yet feel heavy, and I yet feel exhausted.

Through closed eyes and open ears, I observe the reappearance of Raimi. "Prince Chrom, if you would please, the Khan is ready for you." I open my eyes to the sound of her voice. The floor near the opening of the wagon has gained a slight cover of frost on it since the last time I checked. Chrom nods at her request, and calls his main team with him. "Frederick, Lissa, Ordin. Let's go." Frederick and Lissa soon join him near Raimi, though Wellspring doesn't immediately appear. Frederick acts as offense and defense, Lissa as a combat medic, and Wellspring to oversee any operations that might occur. "I'm going to stay with Sumia. Robin, you go."

The side of the wagon opening moves, and I realize that the side of wagon opening was actually Robin. "Yes sir, Lieutenant Wellspring! I'll be right there, Chrom!" With her response, she turns towards me as I keep my position which seems to have kept its original form. She picks up a tome that lies near the very entrance. "Chalys, can you come with me?" It's a quietly spoken request, meant only for me, that I have no desire to refuse as its tone reaches me. Her voice is mostly casual, but with a hint of something else, causing her to sound almost as if she wants me to accept.

As I begin to stand up inside the wagon to follow Robin as she turns back towards Chrom, Chrom calls out to me. "Chalysane, you can stay here and rest." Though I wouldn't exactly mind doing so, I had no desire to go against Robin's request, even if it wasn't exactly an order. Before I found myself needing to make a decision on how to act, however, Robin made a choice for me. "I'd rather her come. She'll add balance." Chrom turns his head towards where Wellspring most likely sits. Silence. "Fine. Let's go." With those three reluctant and slightly irritated words, Chrom turns back to Raimi as she begins to lead the trio. Robin glances back at me as I jump down from the wagon before following suit.

After a short amount of time, we step into the hall that I've become fairly acquainted with. At the end of it, where we would normally stand and await the Khan herself, the Khan already stands awaiting us. "You would be the khan, correct?" Chrom calls out to her as we approach, and she responds with the same volume of voice. "The East-Khan, yes. My name is Flavia. I apologize for the troubles at the border, but we've had several of you attempting to cross at the same place." That's a new one for Him. And here I was thinking that He only summoned enemies. My greatest apologies to the victims.

"But none of them had two of the persons that now stand by your side, Prince Chrom." And then with a gesture of a nod, she refers to both Robin and me. So you would summon a copy of everyone excepting Robin? Excluding me makes sense, but Robin isn't exactly unique either… Or is she? "You, however, are welcome in Regna Ferox." I once more apologize to the victims of His work.

"My gratitude." And here, Chrom skips his words pertaining to the possibility of putting the engagement behind him. "Is it true bandits posing as Ylisseans have been ransacking your border villages?" With a confident laugh, and with an irritated shake of her head, Flavia responds knowingly. "Plegians posing as Ylisseans, that is. We've found several captains with documents proving them as such." Her irritation is clear in her voice as she continues. "If they aim to raise tensions between your kingdom and ours, they'd do well to send smarter captains and smaller forces. It seems more so as if they wish to instigate a war instead." And here Chrom keeps his cool underneath a cold stare.

Flavia continues, taking Chrom's stare to be one of agreement. "I know why you have come, Prince. But I cannot provide any Feroxi troops for Ylisse." Robin speaks up here, as Lissa keeps her quietness. Like Wellspring, Lissa seems quite subdued, and most likely for the same reason. "If your words are true, then you probably have your hands full. Of course, considering you have any to spare, what would it take to convince you to provide them?" Flavia looks over at Robin with a smile. "The authority."

Robin nods with a gleam in her eye that seems to be growing more and more so familiar to me. "The West-Khan holds the authority, correct?" Chrom turns his head towards Robin for a short moment, as he realizes something that Robin had already connected the dots for. Flavia continues forth to explain Robin's words to Chrom, as I find myself fascinated by Robin's apparently increased insight. "Every few years, the khans of east and west hold a tournament. Fought by champions, whom the khans select, the victor of the tournament holds sovereignty over both kingdoms. The next tournament is nigh, you see, and I am in need of champions."

Robin nods, a confident expression across her face, as she takes the reins of the conversation, leaving Chrom behind her. "And you would like us to represent you. That would be Chrom's decision." And just as soon as she had left him behind, she stepped back to let him forth. "If you win and I become ruling khan, I will grant your alliance. Perhaps you would consider representing the East in the upcoming tournament?" Chrom comments on how he assumed that Ylisseans would have had no place in Feroxi traditions, and Flavia explains why the tournaments were fought by outsiders. Chrom explains his lacking of choice and his reasons for such, and Flavia expresses her hope that he would survive.

"But be wary! I hear that an equally able swordsman champions the West-Khan." Just one? Perhaps the other no longer accompanies Marth… "He shall be defeated by Ylisse's necessity." And with an amused laugh, Flavia closes the conversation. "Well spoke once again. I look forward to seeing if your equally skilled with a-" The doors at the opposite end of the hall from Flavia's point of view crash open. "Chalysane! Lissa!" The entire group immediately turns, though he only referenced two names. "It's Sumia!" No time to think. Step-dash forward, jump onto Frederick's horse, and ride off.

* * *

Perfection has always been a myth. To acquire perfection, true perfection, one must have the precision and the ability to change things of a god. Perfection is having the exact amount of atoms, the exact amount of space, and the exact amount of time. Anything more or less, and it isn't true perfection. And so, I always believed that perfection was a myth, and to try and acquire it was a foolish dream. What one should aim to do was to try and come as close to it as one could, and to simply enjoy what they accomplished in their efforts.

What was I supposed to do? She obviously couldn't breathe, and the color of the liquid she continued to cough up told me what was causing the problem. If I had stabbed into her lungs to drain them, I didn't have a heal staff to seal the wound I caused. And, even if I drained her lungs, they would only refill again if I didn't fix what was causing them to bleed so profusely in the first place.

When Wellspring had left her behind, she had only been coughing up tiny amounts of blood. Miniscule droplets. He had run to get Lissa and I, and rightly so. We had been the ones to operate on her, and, as such, we were most likely to know the problem. But when I arrived there myself… It was so much more than a few droplets.

When Wellspring had arrived, I had been hoping that she had only torn her stitches. Perhaps she moved her body in the wrong way and her wound opened up again. A serious wound, and life-threatening, but treatable with the materials I still had. I hoped it was anything that didn't require a heal staff to repair effectively with my lack of medical skills.

It isn't fun to watch someone die. But what was I supposed to do? Turn around and leave? Save myself the pain of watching it, and leave her to face the terror of death alone? That would be cruel. If I had stabbed her lung, drained it, maybe I would have saved her life. But only for a moment. Sustaining the inevitable, and at the cost of dealing her severe pain. I couldn't do anything, really. And so I sat next to her and held her hand as she slowly drowned in her own blood.

Perhaps there was a way to help her. If there was, then I blame only myself for not knowing it. I don't blame myself for whatever internal injury there was that I didn't see. I don't blame Lissa, as she probably did just as well as I expected to her to with her limited experience. And I don't blame myself if there truly wasn't a way to save her. But it still hurts. Even if the pain is familiar, it still hurts. Especially when you do everything right, only to have it all fall apart anyways.

When Chrom finally walked in, he didn't shout. He didn't go into a fitful rage. He didn't blame me. His shoulders just slumped, and the most forlorn look swept across his face. I wonder what he saw in my face then. I had no words for him. He had no words for me. I set Sumia's hand by her side and stood back up. I stepped past Chrom and exited the room. Wellspring wasn't outside. I can only assume that he had stayed behind with Flavia. But such wasn't the case.

Especially as I saw him walking towards where I stood with the emptiest look in his eyes. Wider than normal, ever so slightly, eyelids somewhat lowered, and with his eyes staring off somewhere a thousand yards into the distance. As if he had known all along.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**What am I supposed to say?**

**…**

_**See you next chapter.**_


	13. Chapter 13 - In The End

**Author's Note :**

**This chapter was inspired by the song Magia (AmaLee's English ver.).**

**Oh yes, apologies for the short chapters. I'll make it up to you all someday. ^^" ((school's starting tomorrow...!))**

**Anyway! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I personally love it. I wonder if you can guess why...? xP**

* * *

Chapter 13 – In The End…

_The fairy tales I loved have taught me: No matter what hurdles there may be, your wish comes true… Am I a fool to trust in those lies?_

We stand facing the gate to the arena, the space between us filled with silence. At least, it would have been filled with silence had it not been for the cheering crowds of the arena. Had I been led to the arena under different circumstances, I would have thought myself a gladiator fighting for the appeasement of the crowds. However, I know my objective is to secure the throne for Flavia by defeating the champions of the west khan. I silently forward my apologies to Basilio for usurping his rule

Chrom stands to the front of our position, with Wellspring by his side. Behind him and to the left stand Frederick and Lissa, as Robin and I stand to his right. Since that time, most of the Shepherds have avoided me for obvious reasons. Exceptions include Lissa and Robin. I can probably guess why Lissa wouldn't be so inclined to avoid me, however. Lissa worked with me while trying to save Sumia's life. I can also understand why Robin wouldn't be so, but I can't exactly put it into words.

We would eventually get an apology from Raimi, who soon heard about what happened. As Chrom opened his mouth to speak in response against Raimi, however, Wellspring would simply hold out his arm and silence him. "It was a painful misunderstanding, but we must be allowed one or two of those in a lifetime." And with a subdued bow of her head, Raimi had departed. Chrom would question in shock how Wellspring could just let her go so easily, to which Wellspring had responded. "If it hurts to remember, it's best to forget." Chrom was silenced by this response.

As the roars of the crowds raise higher than normal for a short moment, Chrom breaks the silence of our isolated group. "Chalysane…" I break my stare at the gate for a moment to glance at the back of Chrom's head. He continues. "I trust you, but… I have to know." I return my stare to the gates. They should be opening any time now. "Why didn't you do anything then?" I already know what Chrom is referring to. I'm surprised Wellspring hasn't spoken up to silence him, though. However, I'm more surprised and confused as to how he can take this death so easily. I hesitate with my answer nonetheless. What is the right way to answer his question? I sigh as I contemplate my possible responses.

The gate begins to open, revealing the stone of the arena as it glows under the light cast down upon it from above. It isn't heavenly light, but, considering the number of warriors that fought and died here, it might as well be. "Because I didn't know how to save her." In the end, that's what the situation boiled down to. I didn't know how to save her. As Chrom steps forward into the lighting of the arena, he makes one last comment. "Thanks for trying." I see the faintest distortion of light slip through the air before it disappears. Almost immediately after, Wellspring runs his gloved hand across his forehead and eyes, as if he were sweating under the hot sun. But the air in Regna Ferox is as cold as ever.

On the other side of the Arena, the opposing force takes the field. Ten enemy units. Four Fighters, with an even division on Short Axe and Steel Axe weapons. Two Mages, both wielding Elthunders, one with an extra basic Thunder tome, most likely as a backup. Two Knights, both wielding Steel Lances, with one carrying a Vulnerary. And, finally, the stars of tonight's show, Marth and Avelea, standing side by side, weapons undrawn unlike their peers, but standing just as confidently in the light of the stadium.

I break rank and step up behind Chrom and Wellspring. "You see them, right?" It's obvious that they see them, but it feels right to ask anyway. Wellspring is the one to respond to my query. "Yes." A short, simple answer, straight to the point. I'll follow suit. "I'm going up with Chrom." Wellspring turns his head to me momentarily, hopefully understanding my reason, before glancing at Chrom, who nods as he speaks an affirmation. "Right." And so begins the sequence.

"Marth! Avelea! One question, before we begin?" Chrom's shouts are met with silence. I glance up into the crowds of the stadium, quickly finding Flavia, then turn my gaze towards Avelea. He stares straight at me, the light of the stadium gleaming in his eyes. If Marth weren't wearing his mask, then the light would have been shining in just the same way, of this, I have no doubt. Chrom turns his head to look at me, and I do the same in return. His face is a mask of focus, while mine suddenly has a tiny smile flash across it. Surprise crosses his eyes before he turns head back forwards, after which I do the same.

Marth's and Avelea's silence continues, at which Chrom sighs. "…Fine, then." He calls out his challenge with more vigor than I had ever heard before. "Our swords can speak for us!" Chrom dashes forwards, as I follow behind him closely, and Marth follows suit, with Avelea similarly in tow. The other twelve participants watch in reverence as the stars of the match prepare to face off, though each has their selected weapon at the ready. The four of us stop in the center of the field.

Chrom draws Falchion as I draw my Blade-Lance. Marth draws his own weapon, Parallel Falchion, as I have referred to it for so long, as Avelea does the same with his, as I hereby dub the weapon: Parallel Blade-Lance. "Where did you get that?" Was the first question that flashed through my mind when I first saw Avelea, even as Chrom only asks such of Marth now. Marth tightens his lips visibly in response, keeping his silence.

However, I do not ask the same of Avelea. I already know where he got that weapon. Instead, I am the one to visibly tighten my lips. I gave it to him, just as Chrom gave Falchion to Marth. Knowing me, however, I would have never given up my Blade-Lance, even if I were confident that I was going to die. I would have died with the handles still gripped tightly in the vices of my hands. "There's no way…" As such, if Avelea has it, I apparently died. Amazingly enough, I can't help but find myself amused by that fact.

Chrom dashes forward a yard, and jumps into the air, signaling, for me and Avelea, the start of the battle. Who am I fighting? The child of another version of myself, one that has had years of combat training in an effort for freedom. One that can read movements as if they've been performed more than once. Then again, I have a past in this timeline… Could that mean that this version of myself didn't go through that? Dual frontal thrust, which Avelea parries easily, and throws me back on my feet before leading with a slash, which I deflect just as easily.

What kind of me would have trained Avelea if I didn't endure all those years of combat? One that isn't as well versed in using the Blade-Lance, and probably has more experience in taking advantage of her affinity for mana. But would Avelea have inherited that ability? That's the most likely case. Sparks fly from two sources as Avelea and I clash while Chrom and Marth do the same. I had always watched this scene from afar. During my first timeline, however, I saw this as the most awe-inspiring scene in the world. The clash of metal on metal, lights flaring into existence in the form of sparks, each participant fighting with a certain knowing that they never knew was possible until they met.

If there was one thing that I always believed, however, from the very start, it was that one should never show another all of their cards. As such, even if I taught Avelea everything I knew, I doubt that I would have taught him absolutely everything. I kick-dash backward and away from Avelea, with Marth and Chrom dashing past each other in their slash. I quickly connect my Blade-Lance halves as Avelea's expression starts to show confusion, and plunge the weapon into the ground, freeing my hands.

My past self in this timeline probably was able to use her affinity for mana much more freely than I ever could. As such, she was probably quite likely to teach Avelea the basics of what he was able to do with such an affinity. However, either she wouldn't show him all of what he could do, or, more likely, she wished to wait until he was older. The latter is more likely because of the sheer potential of affinity for mana, especially with practice and control. Vertical, Horizontal, two crosses, open palm the center…

As Marth comes crashing down upon Chrom with the same technique Chrom had used at the beginning of the duel, Avelea finds himself thrown to the ground, knocked unconscious by the force of an unexpected explosion. Wisps of pure, untainted mana float away as if ashes on the wind, quickly degrading into nothing. One of the enemy stars is defeated. Time to clear the other. Once Marth falls, the rest of the battle should be easy enough. I quickly draw my Blade-Lance from its sheath in the ground, disconnect the halves, and turn my attention-

"That's not allowed, Chalysane. Not fair."

His voice?! When did He- I step dash forwards as an attempt at an emergency dodge for whatever attack He launches, and spin midair to to face Him. Just in time to see Chronic's edge immensely large in my vision. Too close and too fast to dodge. It makes sense, reallly: In the end, I just die anyw-

* * *

_Tick-Tock._

_Tick-Tock._

_Tick-_


	14. Chapter 14 - Heredity

Chapter 14 – Heredity

At the time, I had no idea where he had been going off to everyday when he went to work. However, considering that he always brought his sword with him, I could readily believe that he was a sellsword. However, the fact remained that he was rarely gone for more than one day at a time, always having returned home while I was asleep. As such, I always found myself wondering why he would bring a sword to a day job, when a war would have been much more than just that.

For as long as I could remember, mother had never been with him. He had always been alone in my memory, and always seeming to worry about the right things to do with me. He had, at one point, said that all he hoped was that he was raising me in the right way. I obviously didn't know what the right way was, back then. He was the only parent I had any experience with. Whatever he did in my eyes was the right thing. He was the trendsetter. And I loved him with all of my heart.

The fondest memories I have of him are during the mornings. He would wake me up by simply sitting on my bed and putting a hand on my head. Quietly he would say, "Ena," and I would wake up. I had never been a heavy sleeper, and he often commented on how he trouble with me when I was a baby because of such. I don't exactly know why those memories are my favorites, considering how simple they are. However, does something need to be extravagant to be enjoyable?

It was during one of these mornings during breakfast that I had asked about my name. "How did you come up with my name?" He looked up at me from his plate with the same smile that I had grown used to seeing over the years. As if he were looking at the most precious thing in the world. "Someone whom I was close friends with was named Eninia, and I decided to name you after her." I had responded with "But my name's Ena! Not Eninia!" He had laughed so happily at that time as I spoke out against him indignantly, never understand why he was laughing. He had removed three letters from the name to make mine, but I didn't realize this at the time.

During another of these said mornings, instead of going straight to work, he decided to bring me to the city with him. Well, further away from the house than I was used to going. I tended to live my everyday life in the general vicinity of the neighborhood I lived in. I had once gone further than normal, and I found myself subject to one of the few, but nevertheless existing, less than moral groups of other kids. It may have been the circumstances under which they lived that caused them to turn out in the way they did, and I don't blame them for it. However, this is not to say that they didn't scare me. Or hurt me… This is one of the few less than positive memories of my childhood. And not necessarily the worst.

When he traveled anywhere in the city, he always wore a cloak around him. As if he didn't ever wish to be recognized by anyone. He kept his hood up, always obscuring his voice, and he spoke either in a whisper, or by way of parchment and ink. Though I was curious as to why he did so, I had no reason to question him. He would always be smiling when we returned home, and he never gave any indication towards sadness. No matter what had happened to him in the past to give need for such habits, he was the same father I had been raised by. He would be there for me just as always.

During that morning, when he brought me with him, we first went to pick up groceries. After we had returned home to drop off our purchase and to eat, we returned for a reason that only he knew, even if the afternoon was already on the brink of becoming evening. At one moment, I had mistakenly been separated from him in the market area, the bazaar as he referred to it. I had walked around for about an hour, as a sense of fear slowly grew, infecting my mind. At that time, the boy called Cress appeared to me then. He stayed with me, helping me to search for my father. I found myself comforted by his side, his confidence seeping into my own worry, leaving it benign, and leaving me with contentedness.

After about half an hour, when we still hadn't found my father, Cress would offer to get me food, to which I would accept. He would bring me to a part of town that I had never before seen, and eventually to a building with an insignia that I had never seen before emblazoned upon it. He brought me inside the building, quickly asking if a certain person had been cooking, to which he was answered in the negative. And, with a smile, he told me to wait at the table.

Before he returned, however, I found myself conversing with many of the others that apparently resided within the building. Their personalities were of a huge variety, each having their own quirks, as my father would call them, each of which added to their charm. By the time Cress had returned, I had somehow found myself part of a group that I had never known to exist. As it would turn out, Cress had been preparing food for the entire group's dinner. And so I joined them for dinner.

As the end of dinner came to pass, a knock on the door was heard, and a few steps entered through the door. One of the group, the girl who seemed to be the leader, always having her sword by her side, stood up, joined by Cress. "Who are you?" I turned my head, curious as to who the person was, and immediately recognized the silhouette my father. I stood up from my seat and walked over to him, who had yet refrained from taking off his hood. "This is my father." I said it as positively as I could, hopefully trying to diffuse a potentially tense situation.

The group's leader quickly relaxed, and Cress laughed at her seriousness. "Is that so? Please, take off your hood, you're under a sturdy roof here." Though she said it with all good intention possible, my father quickly shook his head, and mentioned for us to go. However, I wished to see him befriend those who had befriended me. "We can stay for a bit. They helped me when I couldn't find you, so I think they'd let us stay for a little." However, from what could see from my point of view under my father's hood, he actually seemed somewhat anxious. He turned his eyes toward me, and I saw in them a sort of pleading that I had seen less than rarely.

"C'mon! You're not intruding!" And then one of the group, one of the more so forward of them, quickly dashed forward and removed his hood. "We can accommodate you!" Though his face was crossed by worry, none of the group seemed to be bothered by him. Though, however, the leader did say something odd. "Ah, so you're His daughter? This is unexpected." With a nevertheless accepting smile on her face, however, she stepped up to my father, who stared away from her and at the ground. It was almost as if he were ashamed.

"You both can stay here for the night. I know you live on the other side of the city. Besides, we have extra rooms." Unexpectedly enough, my father conceded the moment she offered, as if he knew there was a reason in her offering. And so one of the more formal persons of the group led us to a room, stated that it was ours for the night, and left us to it. It was already prepared, probably for another who perchanced needed a residency for the night. When the door was closed, and after he had locked it, only then did my father take off his cloak's hood. Only then did I realize that I had been staring at him, and, when I looked away and at the ground, knowing that it was rude, he laughed, easing my worry.

After a few moments of getting comfortable, with the lamp by his bedside across the room from mine, he spoke to both the empty room and me. "A person who doesn't exactly like me is currently in the part of the city we normally live in." Considering that I knew that my father was an amiable person at heart, I couldn't help but wonder why this person couldn't like him. "However, I don't think she understands why this person doesn't like me." I could only assume that my father was referring to the leader of the group. "Go to sleep, Ena. We'll go back tomorrow." And with a comforting smile, as if I weren't already relaxed, he put out the lamp, enshrouding us in the darkness of the night.

In the dead of the night, however, I suddenly found myself woken by a powerful clap of thunder. I sat up in bed as my father quickly put on the lamp, having also been woken by the sound. Sounds of commotion started to emanate from outside the room, which led me to believe that everyone else had been woken as well. The main doors of the building crashed open with a loud and heavy sound, as voices rushed in, rousing the residents to arms.

As I put on my normal clothes, having had nightclothes provided to me, I wondered what my father would do in this situation. Though he always carried his sword with him, he either wore his cloak or his armor. When he normally went to work, he wore his armor. It was only when he forayed into the city that he wore his cloak. Now that he wasn't wearing his armor, I wondered if he would participate in the call to arms. As he sat on his bed as I changed, as he had worn his own clothes in bed rather than the provided nightclothes, I could only assume that he thought about this.

"Ena... Take my sword with you. And if they have armor here that they can provide you, wear it." I stared at him, but found eye contact to be inacquirable as he stared at the ground, a sort of sad resignation on his face. He seemed older and more weary than he had ever been in my entire life. But what unnerved me the most was that he told me to take his sword. I had never been allowed to carry it, as he didn't want me to ever be involved with a weapon. "You should only ever hold a weapon if you need to. And I don't plan on ever letting you need to." Those were his exact words when I asked for a sword of my own, as I wished to follow his example.

He stood from his bed, and threw the cloak around his shoulders. At that moment, though he seemed older than ever before, he also seemed just as equally gallant. As if he were a legend that chose only now to take up the edge for the last time, having made a vow never to do so again after having set it down after a war, even he had never made such a vow. He stepped over to me, handing his sword and sheath to me, as one would pass an item of inheritance or legacy. A gift to be bestowed. "Should you ever find yourself needing a bit more time to think or act, touch this." And with these words, he indicated something that I had never noticed before on the weapon. I nodded in response.

A pounding on our door, and I answered for him. "We know! We're coming out!" He nodded towards me, and delivered an attempt at the smile he always used. However, I couldn't help but see the age that he had seemed to suddenly gain. He unlocked the door, opening it in, and held the door open for me. I returned his smile and nodded my head in thanks, and stepped through the door. He did so moments later, and I heard the side of the door touch against its frame as he let it close.

Along with the group that I had seen earlier, there now existed another set of individuals, each of which seemed relatively older than the other group. Not only such, but this second group of individuals bore characteristics similar to the first. As both groups moved around to prepare for the coming combat, I listened to the increasingly heavy drumming of rain upon the roof of the building. There were some of the number of the first group that didn't have older counterparts in the second group, something that chilled me for a reason that I couldn't immediately pinpoint. One of these number was the leader of the group, who was yet accompanied by Cress.

As one of the second group approached one of the first group, and the one from the first group said the word "mom", I realized the connection between the second group and the first: Parents and children. Only then did I realize why I was chilled when there were missing second group counterparts for the first group: one or both of their parents had already died. Even Cress had only his mother remaining, who stood confidently at his side.

Among the members of the group was a solemnity that had been drawn over everything. Missing were the laughs and conversations that I had heard at the dinner table the night prior, replaced by grim speech regarding preparations for combat. The leader of the group spoke to the one who had, at this point, donned a mask obscuring his eyes, and was given a mask as well. Subsequently, the interactions between the first and the second group died down to naught, and any interaction was reduced to necessity or same-group cases. My father looked down at me, and I looked up at him, noting that he now carried another sword at his side.

As the preparations quickly came to its close, having just barely a few minutes left until reaching its said close, my father walked up to the leader of the group. She had, at this point, put on the mask, and tucked the length of her hair into her clothes, and in a way that made it seem like it never existed in the first place. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear words meant only for her. She nodded, and my father bowed his head in deep respect, which she quickly tried to wave off. However, my father did not let up, an effort to show his thanks and respect.

Cress's mother suddenly lifted my father's hood, causing him to jump away from her. None reacted to this occurrence, and none reacted to the exchange that followed, as all aimed simply to finish their preparations. "Why are _you_ here? Can't you just leave me alone for once? The end of my life approaches, and I want to spend it giving my son and everyone here a chance at something better, even if I won't." My father spoke his answer quietly, in a way that was only meant for her.

However, she would not accept this, and apparently failed to hear him as well. "Speak up at least. If you plan on being respectful, at least do it with dignity." The look of sadness on my father's face maintained itself as he glanced back at me. He hadn't wanted me to hear it, but now I would be forced to. "I wanted my daughter, Ena, to accompany them." And so Cress's mother was silenced, the angered look on her face reduced to horror at what she had done. And yet, my father once more tried to force his normal smile onto his face, only to have it tainted by the sadness and fear he felt.

Another roar of thunder, this one much louder than the previous, and I was suddenly put under the impression that it wasn't thunder. Suddenly, I was put under the impression that the consistent rumbling of rain upon the roof wasn't rain. "Grima isn't patient, is he?" The words my father says, as if he hadn't spoken for years, are timid. Cress's mother nods once in response, a subdued expression across her face. The leader of the group touched the back of her hand to the pommel of her weapon, before lifting it to adjust her mask. "Let's not keep him waiting, shall we?" I was quickly armored, and given an Elixir and a Recover Staff due to the fact that I didn't have much experience in combat.

And so we made our dash out of the door of the building. The city that I had known for so long had changed overnight. Flames now raged across the tops of the countless buildings, both those that had yet to collapse and those that already had. Above the city was a great blackness, a combination of both smoke and dark mist, both mixed in with the color of a huge overbearing shadow. It was a darkness that prophesized that the mornings that I had spent with my father would never find in the future another iteration. My everyday life had come to an end, and whatever had yet to begin was just about to take the stage.

Cress's mother ran alongside the leader of the group. "I'm no Robin or Wellspring, and Lyra and Nah are already there. However, I can assume the strategy is to cover your group until the Outrealm Gate opens, right?" The leader of the group nodded, her emotions having been hidden by the mask. With a grin that hid her latent fear, Cress's mother called out to the group. "Shepherds! With me!" And she dashed ahead of the group. From the hybrid group, only seven others separated. A meager eight parents to fourteen children. It was heartbreaking. "I refer to you too, Joshua. Forward with us." And with that, my father ran forwards as well. It would be the first and last time I would ever hear his name.

They called the monstrous being the "Fell Dragon Grima". Its shadow was what caused the darkness that covered the heavens overhead, along with the smoke of fire, and dark mists of Risen. Risen were monsters that my father had often called "zombies that aren't exactly zombies." But, even so he describes them as such, "They're still zombies." The Shepherds, as Cress's mother called them, were veterans that could deal with these zombies like one would prepare a high classed dinner. Skillfully, quickly, and without a second's worth of pause to allow them to recover from the previous strikes.

Eventually, we would break into the castle, where soldiers were already fighting the Risen, and struggling feebly against them. The Shepherds provided the relief that the forces needed, and it was soon revealed that the one's called Nah and Lyra had been assisting them the entire time. With our arrival, only then had they found time to start on the "Outrealm Gate", and so they began their work. As for the rest of the group, they worked to defend the pair as they sat on the ground. I could only assume that they were praying.

Another roar sounded out, with an intensity that was so great, I wouldn't have been surprised if it could have shattered glass. And, from the masses of Risen, there appeared an actually human-seeming figure, clothed in a coat that I had seen in descriptions told to me by my father. The wearer of these coats were supposedly Grandmaster Tacticians of unrivaled skill, among which, the best and most powerful of these was the personal vessel for Grima. Considering that Grima lay directly overhead, I could readily assume that this was the Grandmaster Tactician that my father had referred to.

Two Shepherds quickly and vainly fell to her might, as their children struggled to ignore in order to keep alight the flame of hope of another chance at the world. With this, Cress's mother and my father quickly came together to seal the hole in the defense left by them, and also to challenge the Grandmaster Tactician next. "I never thought I would fight alongside _you._" Cress's mother laughed at the irony of the situation.

"Just use your sword to destroy her." With this suggestion made by Cress's mother, my father drew the sword that he had taken up after having given me his sword. Cress's mother semi-coughed, semi-laughed in surprise. "You don't have it. You probably gave it to Ena, didn't you?" My father nodded once, and Cress's mother drew her two swords from off her back, moments before a bolt of dark magic tore through her side. She didn't cry out in pain as my father caught her, but the pain was evident on her face. "Ena!" I already knew what he wanted me to do. And so I dashed over to Cress, and sent him to his mother, as I followed closely, understanding subconsciously my father had probably another task for me.

"To think it would be mana that would seal my fate… I would've expected it to be you that was the victim." My father laughed bitterly as he cut one of the Risen down. He seemed to agree for a reason that I couldn't yet comprehend. "Mom!" Cress fear and worry was apparent in his voice, shock, horror, and rage mixed in all at once, but his mother quickly quieted him. "Shhh… Cress. I'm fine." She connected her weapons together at their pommels and handed the combined piece to her son. "Take this with you, and give me those two silver swords you modified." As tears started to slip from his eyes, he complied with his mother's wish, and handed her his weapons as he took hers.

"These are lighter, sharper, longer, connect better, more aerodynamic… mana-channeling… Well, not so much the last one, but I've done it before." She laughed once before straightening herself out, lifting her weight from my father, and casually deflected a second bolt of magic, this one from a Thoron tome, causing Cress to laugh through his tears. Blood dripped down the side of her dulled-gray-silver armor, leaving tiny droplets in their wake. Grima approached the four of us, smiling evilly, charging a bolt of tomeless magic, and my father looked at me. I heard his message, as I realized what he was asking. And suddenly, I realized that I was about to lose my father.

And, yet, he smiled. This time, with the same comforting confidence that I had grown used to throughout my years. I steeled myself, even as my eyes burned in their desire to release their suddenly pent up tears. A flash of light, and I looked behind us, a circle of pure light shining through the gradually enveloping darkness. Another material-eroding roar, and I turned back forwards to see a look of rage on Grima's face. Cress stood up, standing beside his mother, ready to fight, the trio of them willing to stand against anything.

But that number was instantly reduced back to two as I acted upon my father's wishes. I would have been just as content to stay behind as Cress had meant to, but it wasn't the right choice of action. The smile on my father's face proved it to me. I pulled him away from the front lines, and threw him towards the portal. As the group I had quickly become acquainted quickly passed through the portal, they broke the defensive circle they had formed. Soon enough, only the leader of them was left, as well as the remaining six Shepherds plus my father, who quickly gathered into a small circle. My father and Cress's mother stood side by side against Grima, as the other five guarded their rear.

The leader of the group looked to me and Cress, as I faced off Cress who still wished desperately to die alongside his mother. He held his blades in an attack stance, ready to fight against me to grant himself his wish. I glanced at the leader, who nodded knowingly at me before drawing her blade and jumping through the portal. I looked back at the remaining Shepherds and my father. I hated it. So much. It wasn't fair that I only needed to get lost in a bazaar once to have my life changed forever. However, my father seemed to understand and accept it all. As such, I felt it was my duty to the same.

I dashed against Cress, who quickly sheathed one blade, holding the other like a Swordmaster would, and thrusted straight at me. I dodged to the left, to his right, causing him to turn and angle his blade like I wanted to. And so I touched my father's sword where he had shown me. Just as he had claimed, the weapon gave me time to think and act. Without realizing what had happened, Cress suddenly found himself flying into the portal, though completely unharmed. I sheathed my father's sword, and I looked back at him one last time.

But there was already nothing to look back to. His unmoving face was already frozen in a sad, knowing smile, where it would stay like that until it wore away to nothing. With the enemy closing in on me, and with the portal closing, I stifled whatever tears I wished to cry, and dashed through the portal, leaving the fallen world behind me.

"Nice try, but you're not going to best me that easily." I spoke those words partly as a taunt, but mostly as the truth. So long as I held my father's blade, I would never be easily bested. It was an unfair advantage imparted onto me, though it acted more as a handicap considering my lack of skill. However, Cress misunderstood. "I don't mean to best you, but you're not going near her." I looked behind me, and saw what looked to be Cress's mother. It wasn't right. She had died back there. And Cress had to know that. I wouldn't kill her, as it's quite difficult to kill a ghost, I would simply demonstrate that she wasn't as skilled as his mother.

"Oh, but I already am. And you did so nicely as to knock her to the ground for me." And as I turned around once more to show him just how unskilled she was, I realized that she was already standing again, against my expectations. I should have known right then that she wasn't as unskilled as I thought. But I was naïve. "Oh wait… She's already up. No matter." I just had to try and prove my point. And I suffered for it.

With my remaining arm, I had temporarily dulled the pain with a touch of the Elixir.. When I had pulled myself over to my sword, I touched it where my father had shown me once more, giving me time to think and act. I recalled how my father had taught me that staves work, and used the Recover Staff accordingly. When I had finished, I finished the serving of the Elixir that I had started to replenish my lost blood and remove the remaining pain. And so I dashed off into the woods, using the remaining power of my father's blade. And so I avoided combat until the blade could recover from the stress I had put on it.

I closely shadowed Cress and the leader of the group, which eventually led me to Regna Ferox. I watched "Marth", as she had decided to call herself, apparently, defeat the one named Lon'qu. And so "Marth", and "Avelea", as Cress had apparently named himself, became participants in one of Regna Ferox's tournaments. I sat in the audience when the tournament actually came to pass. Until that time I had worked for my keep for anyone who would let me stay at their residence. Though no house ever truly felt right after what had happened. Every room was empty.

I had sat in the audience watching the battle unfold, watching as Cress's mother handily and overwhelmingly defeat her own child. I had never aimed to intervene, and I simply aimed to shadow the pair until I could meet with the rest of the group, and possibly find my father. I never aimed to join them because I was afraid that Cress would hate me, and rightly so, for what I did.

But I had never expected my father to attack Cress's mother. Noting the energy that my father's sword had once more accumulated, which I could feel when I touched the sword, I gave myself time to think and act. I jumped down from the audience, dashed over to Cress's mother, and angled my father's blade to block my father's attack. Only then did I realize that the blade that he wielded was exactly the same as the one I held.

And, with this, I realize that the place I'm standing in isn't the world I was living it. It's another version of that world. One that hasn't had hell break loose in it yet. And this person whose attack I'm blocking is actually my father. With these thoughts, I release the stop on time.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Hmmm… I wonder what you guys were thinking about this character. Personally, I love how this character turned out. I thought she was going to be, like…. VEH! I'm not gonna say what I think. But it isn't this! This was an accident :D And I didn't plan on mentioning something like this until later in the story xD I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it xP**

_**(( If you notice a certain inconsistency with a certain previous chapter, then worry not. It will most likely be explained. As for the likely grammar errors… Well, if it bothers you at all, please tell me. ****Oh, and posting this at 8:00 AM today instead of 1:00 PM. This is because I will not be home at that time ^^"))**_

**Inspiration for this chapter is the song "Lullaby for a Stormy Night". (heart)**


	15. Chapter 15 - Everything Matters

Chapter 15 – … Everything Matters

_-Tock_

And then I'm suddenly out of place, stumbling backwards and away from Him. Where I had stood the instant before is another person whom I instantly recognize, Jumper, as I will refer to him. He doesn't wear the same clothes as he had on that day, as he now wears a cloak, but I can recognize him by his hair. Something about his hair had bothered me since that day, and I hadn't realized what it was. It is now, however, when I can see his hair again, as he stands where I had, that I realize what's actually bothering me. But at the current moment, however, the thing that surprises me the most is that Jumper stands where I should be.

He stands with his sword drawn against Chronic, whose flat is the side that makes contact with Jumper's blade. Moments prior, I had seen the edge of Chronic in my vision, not the flat. After the ringing cry of metal scraping against metal sounds out, piercing through my hearing, He dodges away from Jumper. "Where'd you get that sword!?" Suddenly, I find myself amused by the duality of the situation, but this isn't the moment to express such. As Jumper holds the sword in an abnormal position, I realize that he likely has next to no experience with the weapon. "From my father."

Right then, instinctively, I look at the sword that Jumper wields. An exact copy of Chronic, broken hourglass still inset in the hilt. I throw a quick look at Chrom, whose eyes connect with mine. "Defeat Marth!" And with those words, I split my Blade-Lance and charge at Him.

Jumper is His son. Why would He have a son?! I never thought that He would actually play the game Himself! Then again… If I was so different in the parallel timeline, wouldn't He have been as well? I lead with a strike with both swords, and He immediately loses his balance, caught completely off guard. Just as I thought. He didn't think something like this would happen either: He was stunned by Jumper's weapon, and, consecutively, by the possibility that he might have a son. As He hits the ground, I sheath my swords. As He rolls back up into a standing posture, I charge a bolt of mana in my hand, as naturally as I would have always done, had I remembered when I had done it, and launch it at Him.

With another burst of evanescent flames, for the first time, a jagged hole is present in His armor behind a covering hand. And then, suddenly, standing between me and the unexpectedly injured opponent, Jumper stands. "Don't kill him!" This time, Parallel Chronic is raised towards me, as I stand without making any further moves. I had never intended to press the advantage. I'm far more curious as to who the boy who- With the unexpected clash of sound, I see one of the Falchions land in the ground in front and to the left of me.

I glance back behind me, to see Marth on the ground, defeated. "Clear out the rest of them!" With a command obviously calling for the rest of the accompanying Shepherds to attack the remaining forces and defeat them, the rest of our group engages in comparatively easy combat. I turn my vision back to the front to see Jumper engaged in combat with Him. He struggles to keep up with Him, barely, and truly just barely, managing to keep his opponent's blade at bay.

I draw exclusively the rightward half of my blade-lance and re-engage in battle, gripping the weapon with both hands, but keeping my left hand open. Dicross Blitz. An attack pattern designed for a longsword user that can move the weapon at extremely high speeds. Release the hold on your left hand. Diagonal down-right slash, free left hand. Maintain single hand hold, follow with diagonal down-left slash. Flow with the momentum into a high speed spin, grip with both hands, follow with a horizontal slash. Curve the strike at the end, and follow with a downward arc. Bring the blade's grip near your face, where you would hold an arrow before releasing it, and follow with a forward thrust. Two crosses, and a forward movement.

He blocks each of my attacks, just as I expect Him to, and throws off my final thrusting attack with a sweep of His blade, sending my blade away from an immediate ready position and leaving me open to a frontal attack. But then Jumper comes in and blocks His strike once more, an instant later slashing with the same speed that had caught me off guard the first time. Once more, He is thrown off balance, but not in a way that causes Him to fall to the ground once more. "Joshua! Stop attacking her!" The name clicks in my head. That's right. His name was Joshua. That's what he told me during... Wait, when did he-

"Who the hell are you…!?" With an accusatory growl, Joshua strikes out against Jumper once more, this time knocking Parallel Chronic out of his hands. And before I can react to save the boy, Chronic's point is up to his throat. With this sudden pause in the combat, I notice the odd lacking of sound. I glance suspiciously around, noting that none of the other enemies continue to stand. With the lacking of sound, though, it would seem almost as if everything had stopped for just that moment.

"Tell me." His eyes are not filled with rage, and neither are they filled with panic or confusion. Instead, they have the look of cold calculation and contemplation. Behind them, I can see no desire to eliminate the person that stands before him, with naught but a simple curiosity. "My name is-" "Names will be forgotten. I asked who, not your name." Considering his positioning of Chronic, I can't attack him in any way without possibly injuring Jumper.

A blade of wind slices through the air, cast with masterful precision, and it passes just left to Jumper, angled perfectly to catch Joshua with its full force. As he steps back, disoriented, the tip of Chronic leaves Jumper's throat, giving me the opening I had been hoping for. I step-dash towards him, and, moments before I let fly with my rightward blade-lance, he locks eyes with me. He jumps away from me right as I slash at him, and before I can dash to him again, he disappears mid-jump. I search the Arena, but he is nowhere to be found, and the cheering, ever-moving crowds do not provide any assistance as to such. It would have been quite helpful if I could have just disabled some part of him.

However, as I now look at Jumper, who seems as if he's just about to fall over, I can't help but think that it might have been impossible to do such. Jumper is apparently Joshua's son, and he can somehow walk. I walk over to him to support him, and I glance back at Robin, who has an Elwind tome in hand. "I kept it from back when you pushed it into my hands." As she answers my unspoken question, I find myself at a slight loss for words as I take hold of Jumper's hand and put it on my shoulder. She had kept that specific tome from that long ago? I'm quite surprised she hasn't used it to depletion yet.

Jumper's hand on my shoulder slowly increases in pressure, confirming my belief that he was very much so on the brink of falling over. I glance over at him, once more noting the color of his hair. "Her name's Ena." Marth calls out to me as he lifts Avelea from the ground, who is obviously still stunned. I turn my head to him, and then back to Ena. I'd been mistaking her for a boy? … That's right, I have been. I've been thinking about her as a male this entire time. I wonder why…? Thinking back to when I first saw her, it had been blatantly obvious that she was female. Avelea was the only one who had been obscure… How did I make that mistake?

"Take care of her for us, would you, Chalysane?" He knows my name too?! He didn't know it in the other timelines! Why the heck does everyone know me in this timeline?! Wait, Avelea knows my name, so I guess it's appropriate that the he and everyone else from the future would know my name. I present a slightly exaggerated nod as a response to Marth's question. "Seeing as Avelea probably doesn't want to be near her right now, that is, we can't exactly have her accompany us." With this, Marth begins to walk away, half-carrying, half-assisting Avelea as he attempts to do the same. Frankly, he's not having much success.

* * *

As the arena stadium continues to clear out, Marth and Avelea having already disappeared into the snowbound fields beyond, I note that Chrom once more looks suspiciously at me. "How do they know your name?" I feel the oddest desire to roll my eyes at his question. Why would I know? Though, to be fair, I do know. I just can't tell him. "I don't know, Chrom. Why does Emmeryn know my name?" With this his suspicion breaks and he smiles. "Well played, Chalysane." And we return to a general silence as I sit on the floor of the Arena as he stands. Frederick stands next to his horse as Lissa sits upon it, and Robin and Wellspring apparently seem to be playing a game of spoken, non-board chess.

At the current moment, the arena combat group waits in the arena for Flavia to appear. Chrom still seems relatively unwilling to interact with most people at the moment, except for subjects of possible high importance. However, he seems to be steadily recovering, visibly and outwardly, if not invisibly and inwardly. Though I can somewhat predict how he could be feeling at this current moment, it won't be the same. The same goes for Wellspring. He seems to have accepted her death… If accepted is an acceptable term… quite well, considering what she apparently meant to him. It both makes and fails to make sense that he can keep his cool. It makes sense considering that he's a tactician; he would need to be able to think past situations like this should they ever arise. However, it doesn't make sense that he can continue on also as if the event never happened, and that she almost didn't exist outside of memory. It bothers me, if the word can accurately describe my discomfort.

As for Ena, she quietly sleeps on the ground next to me. Easily expectable, she wasn't quite ready to have someone she had lived most of her life next to and with suddenly not know her, nevermind attacking her. And then the curse to have never known her mother, and, with the loss of the father that she knew, the curse of possibly never knowing who her mother was. But, more importantly, the fact that she may never be close to her father again. The Joshua I know is definitely not the Joshua that she knows, her actions and Marth's words before having proven that much to me.

But, as I look at her hair once more, I can't help but wonder how it happened. And knowing what the truth could potentially be bothers me to no end. Flavia's pace enters into the arena, her echoing footsteps somewhat muffled by the wind blowing outside. She fulfills her promise for an alliance, and invites us to celebrate. Of course, we won't necessarily be attending, as Frederick will make the wise decision to return to Ylisstol to inform the Exalt of the alliance.

"I'd never thought I'd see you again, girl." Those are pretty unusual words to be coming out of Basilio's mouth at this point of our meeting. I'm confident that he hasn't seen Lissa, Robin, nor me before, though I think he might as well be talking to me. After all, people seem to know me, especially the noble types and the such. Though the only reason why Basilio would qualify in the Noble area is due to the fact that he's the West-Khan. "And I have to say, you're just as good as ever." But I'm under the influence of amnesia, and, as such, I don't know him, nor any of what he's talking about. And I especially know that he's not talking to me.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Chrom's scripted response actually fits with quite a bit of accuracy here. As for me, I glance once again over at Ena. Her cloak seems to have doubled as a make-shift, albeit accidentally so, blanket and bed. I wonder what kind of life she had lived prior to coming here, both in regards to the Arena and in regards to the parallel timeline. I already know that she hadn't been traveling with Marth and his crew, and, as such, she was likely alone when she really shouldn't have been. It's almost pitiable, thinking about it in that way. At least she doesn't need to travel alone anymore.

"I'm the West-Khan you so rudely removed from power!" But then that leaves the question of how she lived in the other timeline. And, just as importantly, why wouldn't Avelea want to be near her? Sure, she might have knocked into a tree when coming into this timeline, and probably taunted him a bit… Why would she do that, actually? It's obvious that Marth sees her as a friendly. Why wouldn't Avelea? Considering that they're all working towards the same goal… "You're handy with a sword, boy. Though, if I'd known that you'd have Her with you, I'd wouldn't have gotten my hopes up."

"Who're you talking about? Robin?" Strategy wins a war, not an individual soldier. It seems that Chrom is on the right track to saving the world. "Oh, is she here too?... You're right, she is here. She's grown quite a bit." Okay, so, apparently, you know Robin as well. This should make for something interesting. On another note, considering that Lissa's just a healer, and that Robin is not the person he was directly looking for, that would leave only one "she" left in the combat group. Of course, we shall not count Ena, because I'm confident that it was a bit obvious that she wasn't supposed to be part of the tournament. Speaking of which, why did they continue the fight when-

"I'm obviously referring to the person who seems to be ignoring her old war buddy." Wait. Did you just say _war?_ I don't think I've been involved in any wars with you, Basilio. Not yet, at least. "If you're referring to Chalysane, she doesn't remember anything. And what do you mean by war?" I look over my shoulder to see a look of bemused bitterness on Basilio's face. "Fitting. Though it seems Robin hasn't left you, has she, Chalysane?" I glance over to Robin instinctively, then I look back to Basilio.

"Wait, what do you know about Chalysane and Robin?" And, in the end, Chrom has not asked about Marth, and has, instead, asked about Chalysane and Robin. I'm sure he'll ask about the sellsword with delusions of grandeur sooner or later though. Right after he asks Basilio about the past I'm curious about as well. "Not much more than Ordin over there does." I snap my vision to Wellspring, who stares at the ground in front of Robin's feet as she thinks about her next move, which will probably decide the game. Which has probably been in her favor since the first three moves.

She's probably just choosing how she wants her opponent to be defeated. Just how I'm trying to avoid the fact that Ordin knows me just as much as Basilio does, and has been hiding it this entire time. "I'm sure Lieutenant Wellspring over there gave a better story than I could. After all, he was almost always by the Captain's side. He was her right hand man." Robin and Wellspring, on the other hand, remain oblivious to the conversation, as the two engross themselves in their game of chess, and their speculation about something else. I'm eager to know about my past, but I'm hesitant just as well. After all, one begets greater satisfaction if they have the will to wait for it. Either way, I'm curious.

* * *

"Y'know, Robin. You could Scholar's Checkmate." She waves off his comment. "That's one of the flaws of chess. Too easy to win, and too many opportunities to do so. You can win during the setup, you can win during the midgame, and you can win during the lategame." Wellspring nods at her comment, seemingly understanding. "I do know of a game that has a little more complexity. It requires in-depth thought during all stages of the game. In fact, players have sometimes thought about a single move for more than an hour." Robin smiles when she hears Ordin say this.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_**Oh oh oh! Did you notice it!? The chapter titles for the thirteenth and fifteenth chapters! Thirteenth chapter, time stopped, fifteenth chapter, time resumed. "In The End… Everything Matters!" And considering the length of each chapter, you might as well call them complimentary~!**_

**Considering approaching circumstances, I may or may not be able to post as often as I have been asofar. I will continue to try my best to produce a chapter for posting once every three days, but, if I fall behind… Well, fair warning ^^"**

**What are your opinions on this chapter? I'm curious xP Either way, I hoped you enjoyed it~**

_**Inspiration for this Chapter came from two songs: "Kanade" and "Jiyuu no Tsubasa Piano Duet".**_


	16. Chapter 16 - I Dreamt of Flying

Chapter 16 – I Dreamt Of Flying

I first met her when I was walking to school. Considering that there was only one secondary tier school in the town that we had lived in at the time, I had wondered why I had never seen her before. She sat off the way of the path and next to the river that I had so often seen as I passed it by. The river was possibly the only thing in the town that ever changed. Some days, the water rushed, some days it flowed along calmly. Sometimes it flowed halfway up the side of the banks, sometimes it overflowed, and sometimes it was completely dry. Then again, the latter was the most uncommon state for it to exist in.

More often than not, I walked with up to two friends in the morning. However, that day, there was none walking by my side. This was mainly due to the fact that a sort of chance sickness had swept through the town, bedriddening most of the children. It wasn't deadly, but it was still enough to cause worry for the children's parents. I was one of the few that seemed to be unaffected. That might have been the only reason why I had chanced upon her that day.

As I watched her laying on the grass in the slope leading to the bank, I had decided to try to get her to come with me. It wasn't right for her not to go to school, especially seeing as she wasn't sick, this having been assumed from the fact that she was outside instead of in bed. You should go to school." Those were the words I had said to her that day. I was, in the words of one of my teachers, someone destined to be some great mage in our time, or perhaps a scientist. Disciplined, intelligent, dedicated, and with a positive upbringing that seemed as if it would hold throughout any temptation.

But she didn't respond to my claim. As I continued to pause my journey to school, seeing as I had time, I decided to go up to her. As I stood over her, I noticed that her eyes were closed, and I realized that she had been asleep. Though I was somewhat reluctant to wake someone, especially someone that I didn't know, it thought it would be best if I did so. And so I poked her cheek. Her eyes squeezed tighter shut for a moment before they opened slowly. Grey colored irises, but they somehow changed to a light blue as the light passed over them. Such would be the first thing about her that would be ingrained in my memory.

She had looked up at me then, the sleepy expression still on her face, her mouth slightly gaping as she slowly started to yawn. I reiterated what I had said to her earlier. "You should go to school." She once more closed her eyes and turned on her side and away from me, somewhat curling up as she gave me a response. "No need." I had considered asking her again, but it seemed to me that I was unlikely to find success in my attempts in convincing her to come to school. And so, I stood up, and walked away from her. Though, as I walked away, I couldn't help but look back at her. She had, at some point, turned onto her other side, though her eyes were still closed. The rest of the day had passed normally.

I had walked the same path every day, and I would walk it again the next day, alone as I had the previous day. The sickness wouldn't let up for another week, and, throughout that week, I would continue to be unaffected. As I walked by the river once more, and as I passed by the place where I had seen the girl lying in the grass. Though there was an impression upon the grass, the girl herself was not there. I searched the area for her, as the impression on the grass would make it seem that she had been there recently. However, she was nowhere to be seen. Resigning myself, I continued my walk.

I would meet her again at the end of the week, when some of the students had begun to recover from the sickness. Among those still confined to their beds were those friends that I walked with in the morning, and so I found myself walking alone once more. As the week had passed, I found that the impression upon the grass had failed to fade as the days passed by. Though, upon this day, I found that the impression had suddenly and finally disappeared, leaving the grass as even as those surrounding it. Almost as if she had never been there in the first place. I wondered for a moment if I had simply been imagining her in the solitary conditions of the previous morning walks.

However, I would see her again when I walked home alter that day. I stayed longer than most, choosing to stay at school until I finished the work that my teachers had assigned, of course, assuming that it could be done at school. It was in the twilight that I saw her, once more laying on the grass on the slope next to the banks of the river, which flowed the same as it had all week. As I passed her by, I stopped momentarily to look at her, as she laid on the grass with her eyes closed. For a moment, I considered talking to her. However, I didn't know what to speak about, and, wishing to avoid a potentially awkward situation, I had decided to turn my head back forwards and keep walking.

"Have you ever dreamt of flying?" It was only after I had taken a few steps that I heard her voice sound out behind me. I turned to look at her once more, and I saw that she now laid on her stomach, propping her head up with the palm of one her hands, her other arm crossing in front of her. She told me during that sunset that her name was Alys Pavais, spelled like such. I didn't recognize it.

* * *

When Chrom asked me what I knew about Chalysane, I told him that I didn't want to talk about it. When he pressured me further, I reworded my response so that I said that I refused to talk about it. He hasn't bothered me about it since, and, for that, I am both thankful and regretful. He probably thinks that I don't want to talk about Chalysane because she might be the reason that Sumia died. True, it still hurts to admit that she died, and it is true that the marches seem immensely longer now, but…

I look at Chalysane as she talks with Robin. When Basilio said that it was fitting that she was still with her, I agreed, though I pretended not to hear. Robin didn't hear, as, frankly, I don't think she cared to listen to what he said. Not that she would remember, as I was told that she suffers from Amnesia, just as Chalysane does. How fitting that both of them would suffer from it, though it may be more so fitting for Chalysane. If anyone deserves not to remember something, it's Chalysane.

But she's so different from how I remember her, it actually bothers me. It's almost as if all she remembers is the war itself, and nothing at all. Even during the war, she tended to somewhat maintain a generally sunny attitude. Not exactly sunny, but more like a cloudy day that was relatively comfortable in temperature. Overcast, and comfortable. Perhaps that's an effective way of describing it.

Now, however… Distressingly pale sunlight, mist-like nigh invisible clouds in the sky, and overall stingingly cold air. She's not the same, and it bothers me. That's why I only said that I recognized her voice when I heard to her for the first time. I knew her voice, but not the tone that was part of it.

I don't blame Chalysane for the death of Sumia. She tried to save her, and that's what truly matters, even if Sumia did die in the end. Hopefully, she doesn't blame herself, though something tells me that she actually may not. She really just isn't the same.

* * *

After that time when Alys had asked that question of me, we slowly became friends. Somehow, that is. I don't know how exactly, but it would seem that way. Taking after my suggestion, she eventually decided to come to school. Then again, I never noticed her actually paying attention in class, nor did I ever see her turn in homework. I would have said that she was a terrible student for such, but it would seem that she never needed to, just as she had said to me when I first met her. She didn't need the classes, and constantly received high scores on her tests, if not perfect. But perfection doesn't matter, does it: She obviously knew the material, and that's all that mattered to both me and the teacher.

It was the day that we graduated from the secondary tier that I saw it. After everyone had left, I had decided to walk the area of the school that I would never see again. In a few days, I would be traveling to Ylisstol, and I was unlikely to return home until a few years had passed. The main reason I had walked through the school, though, was that I had seen Alys walk into it soon after the graduation ceremony had ended. I hadn't had a chance to tell her about my departure, and I wanted to talk to her about where she would pursue her tertiary tier education, considering her apparent intelligence.

By that time, I already had my guesses as to where she would go. At one point during our schooling, a professor from one of the more prestigious schools of the study of mana had visited. Throughout any of the guest speakers that had ever appeared at our school, it would seem that this guest speaker was the only one she had cared to listen attentively to. As such, the only obvious choice for her possible area of study was one of mana research. However, considering how I first met her, I couldn't help but vaguely believe that she had no plans to continue her education despite her intelligence. And so I decided that I had wanted to talk to her about continuing such.

After about a few minutes worth of searching, I eventually found her sitting at her desk. Though the classroom maintained its décor, the students that sat at the desks were unlikely ever to appear again, lest they had decided to later become teachers and chanced to appear once more at the school. By that time, however, it was unlikely that the building would have remained the same, nevermind the décor. But it was what saw then that I deemed to be truly unique, seen only once in the world, and possibly only ever to be seen by cause of her existence.

Once more, she sat at her desk, looking outside at the slowly setting sun, her hands folded in her lap. As I stood in the doorway, it was then that I felt for the first time that she may not necessarily exist, like she was only a person in a picture that I happened to be looking at. Orange rays of the sunset light shining through gleaming openings, falling across the room as passively as one would see an object in their peripheral vision. An ephemeral, detached phenomena that was as common as it was happenchance. In my eyes, it seemed lonely. However, despite that, it still felt warm.

"Have you ever dreamt of flying?" Somehow, she knew I was there. Though, as I must admit, I had never tried to dampen the sound of my footsteps. When she spoke those words from the first time we met, however, I suddenly felt as if I would be in the wrong if I were to tell her to continue with her schooling, or even suggest that she would if she had never told me what she would do. And so I decided to ask her about that. "What will you do now?" Her shoulders rose and fell slowly as I heard her breath deeply and exhale just as deeply.

Her answer rings in my ears as clearly as it had back then. "I don't know." She had sounded both resigned and content. As if she had just completed a task that she had expected to take a lifetime, and suddenly found that it only took a few years. I understood how she had felt at the time. She had, for the longest time, dedicated a part of her life to doing something, and now that it was gone, there was an emptiness where the task had used to reside. "What will you do?" She spoke to me my own sentence, but with a subtraction of one word, and a movement of the emphasis to the word "you". She had answered my question, and it was right and polite for me to do the same. And so I told her.

Only then did I see her face for the first time that day. Though her mouth was turned up in a smile, I could see in the color of the area around her eyes that she had been crying. I didn't want to ask what was wrong that day. I was instinctively afraid of her answer. In the end, I decided that the only thing I noticed about her then was that she had said, "I'll come with you." I decided that I didn't know why, even though I had my suspicions. I decided that it was right not to ask.

* * *

When we had arrived back at the Garrison, Chrom and Lissa went to inform Emmeryn of the situation with Ferox. Overall, they seemed energetic about the first positive news that we have had in quite a long while, and fittingly so. Even so, I can't help but feel worry as to how Plegia might react to our "sudden build-up in military forces", as they're most likely to see it when we receive the Feroxi supports. Last I had heard, their most recent king is a fanatic against Ylisse, particularly for the reason of our previous Exalt, and has essentially the entirety of the country backing him.

I take a sip of tea from my cup, noting the slight gap between the brewer's skill and Maribelle's. It isn't so much a matter of a gap in excellence in my belief, but more so a matter of a gap in focus when preparing the tea. In my mind, both Maribelle's and this brewer's skill are equally wonderful. They just have differences in certain aspects of brewing. To me, it's comparing the air on one side of a mountain to the air on the other. Of course, this is assuming that both sides of the mountain have similar attributes, and all that truly differs is the side of the world that they are connected to. No matter what the case, however, I'm confident that I might not be as easily understood as I can understand myself.

I lean back in my chair, pointing my line of sight towards the ceiling while maintaining a view on the room around me. I have had experience dealing with a Fanatic of a king before, though not necessarily one with the entirety of the country behind him. Though, as I might be able to assume, one with the entire country backing his every wish would be more likely to deal more damage as a result. Not only to another country, but to this own. The people wouldn't know when to back down, and the king definitely wouldn't. A recipe for disaster for both sides, the aggressor and the defender.

* * *

For a time, after we had arrived in Ylisstol, we had lived together in a room of the shop of one of my father's long time friends. It was a simple creation in all truthfulness, but it was one that neither she nor I had any problems with. It was there that I worked to learn my father's trade, guided by my father's friend, who taught us with the same lessons that my father had given him when he was learning. Whilst I could follow the lessons quite easily, Alys always seemed to have trouble following in my footsteps. It was, after all, a profession that had a materialistic focus instead of one on Mana. I didn't understand why she would try so hard to learn the profession, considering such.

One day, her complexion had seemed pale, and she had overall seemed generally tired. Worried for her health, I had requested that she take the day off from studying the trade, to which she readily agreed. Instead of going outside, however, she simply went back to our room. When I walked in later that night, I had found her asleep with a book about the prior decade's advances in mana research in her hand. The next morning, however, I would also find that she had a book about the trade we were learning under her pillow. During that day, she was able to successfully complete a task that she had been having trouble with. Her response to when my father's friend asked as to how she figured it out was that she had "slept on the subject".

Though she never actually was able to attain the same level of ease with the trade, she eventually was able to master the basics. By that time, however, I had already left her behind. Realizing that it was unlikely for her to ever catch up, she started to study the material at her own pace instead of laboring to match my own. Her learning speed increased notably, if not substantially enough for it to defined as true affinity for the craft. Besides, about a year later, none of it would have mattered to me.

By that time, I had known about the existence of the war for quite a while. In fact, it was because of the war that I had decided to take up my father's trade. During the early stages, my father had been conscripted to fight against Plegia and the Grimleal, leaving me with his hope that I would become something greater than a soldier one day. To the younger me at the time, there had been nothing greater than creating the same amazing things that my father always had. And so, as such, though I pursued intelligence in all fields, I had decided to specialize in the field my father had.

When officials arrived at the shop, I had greeted them like I would have greeted any other. They asked for the owner of the building, and my father's friend came forth. They ordered that he serve in the military, but they quickly realized that he was far from a viable option of a soldier, considering his slowly growing disabilities. If anything, he would have been a detriment than anything else on the battlefield. And so they turned to me, and, threatening to charge me and everyone in the building with treason, forced me to agree to fight. And so I walked with them.

As I walked away from the shop, I couldn't help but realize that I was walking away from all that I had aspired to achieve. By the time I returned to the shop, I would either be dead, or my father's friend would be. If anything, he would most likely be unable to continue to teach me. Despite knowing this, I steeled myself against the upcoming hardships. I promised myself that I would eventually return home to my mother. I also promised myself that I would eventually return to see Alys.

As I thought about her, I remembered that she was dedicated to learning the trade of my father just as much as I was, though probably slightly less. It was likely that she would be able to learn most of the trade before my father's friend became unable to teach her, despite her slowly learning pace. However, even as I thought about this, I realized that I couldn't draw any comfort from this fact. It was a guarantee that the secrets of my father's trade wouldn't be lost forever, but I still couldn't draw comfort from it. I still felt bitter about leaving behind the shop.

"Have you ever dreamt of flying?" When Alys once more asked me that question that night in the barracks, however, I found the relief that I had expected earlier in the day. "Not yet, I haven't." It was the first time I had answered her question throughout all my years of knowing her, and my answered caused my chest to burn with pain. I would hide the tears I cried in my pillow, though I didn't necessarily understand at the moment why I had felt so relieved that she was here with me, facing down a life of peril, when she could have been safe in the shop. That night, I dreamed that I could soar through the skies. I didn't question how. I just flew.

* * *

"Shepherds! We're moving out!" Chrom's words echo throughout the room and over to me, as I sit in a chair, reading a book and drinking tea, causing me to look up. As the questions fire up as to why, I glean the information that Maribelle had been kidnapped by invading Plegian forces, who claim that she had been the one to invade their country. Despite words from both Phila and Chrom, Emmeryn apparently agreed to parley with the dastard. As compensation for her decision, the Shepherds and Phila's Pegasus Knights would accompany her. Though, of course, only the former applied to us.

I stand up and arch my back, stretching the muscles that had gotten tense from my awkward sitting position. And then I yawn. I look outside, noting the color of the skies, as I soon realize that it had, at some point, become nighttime. I casually go through my in-armor mobility checks before slipping my gauntlets on over my hands. Noting everything to be in positive general order, I draw my Brave Sword from its sheath. I had named the weapon Rila, though I often said it either as Rira or as Lyra. I don't exactly remember why I had named the weapon such at the time, but the name has stuck in my head ever since that time. Whenever that time was, that is.

As I resheath my blade, I hear Ricken's complaints about not being allowed to accompany us on this mission. This is, of course, most likely due to Chrom saying that he shouldn't come due to his lacking in age. Though I would never dare say this to Chrom, I had always believed that he was a bit-Lot hypocritical for allowing Lissa to come and not Ricken. Two reasons: She's his sister, nevermind the princess, and she's the same age as Ricken. However, though I would normally side with Ricken in these situations, I can't help but feel that Chrom's in the right when refusing to allow him to accompany us. The situation is most likely to be very volatile, and I can't help but worry that Ricken might do something spark-creating. Something we do not need.

However, despite this belief, I feel just as strongly that Chalysane shouldn't attend either, specifically for reasons that she doesn't know. Considering that Chrom doesn't know her, it's already a given that he doesn't know either, the same for Lissa. In fact, it's could be quite easily the case that, if anyone shouldn't partake of this journey to rescue Maribelle, it should be Chalysane. But no one here would realize that, would they?

* * *

After our first engagement and deployment, I realized how lucky I was to still be alive. Out of our original number, at least half of us had been wiped out. Few of them I knew, however, as we had only recently transferred into the group we had fought with, and, as such, I was spared emotional agony. Though, as I had to admit to myself, it was just as likely that a large number of those comrades that I had known had also died in the same battle. But such wasn't the main thing that worried me then.

That night, after everything had calmed down, she had reappeared in our tent which we had shared with several others. She had immediately gone to my side, ignoring our tent mates and, hugging me, had pressed her face into my shoulder. "Aw, would you look at Orrey's girlfriend." They said those words in the playfully mocking manner that both Alys and I were used to. Normally, we would have laughed at this petty joke, as there was a friendship already growing between us. However, Alys never looked up from my shoulder, simply pressing herself harder into me. A sort of desperation.

It was then that I had called her what I had already silently considered her for much of my life. "She's not my girlfriend. She's my sister." She sobbed once at this, and the tent became silent for the rest of the night. That day had been her first experience with death of any sort. According to those who had fought with her, she had been unable to make a single kill, and claimed with justified reason that she was unlikely ever to become truly accustomed to combat. They had suggested that they put her in the role of a cleric. It made sense to me, considering her affinity for mana.

But she would stay in the group that she refused to leave, though her superiors constantly threatened punishment if she would not abide. Eventually, they formed a deal that she would be allowed to stay if she could prove her worth on the battlefield. And so she would prove her worth.

"I dreamt of flying…" That night, after her second battle, she had spoken to me those words. However, from the way she said it, it had seemed that it wasn't something that had occurred recently. In fact, she spoke it as if she were recalling a memory of a time that had long passed her by. The next morning, she was given official permission to stay in my group. No one said anything more.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I made it on time. I win. TuT**

**Anyways, background stories~ This is where I think my specialty lies! x3 ((I've always loved background information~))**

**My first question is: What did you think of the paragraph describing Alys as she sat at the desk? I say first, but I'm not going to ask anymore. I don't want to get carried away asking questions xD That was my favorite paragraph to write, so I think I can ask about that though, right? :3**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter~ Leave your opinions if you find time to do so! ^.^**


	17. Chapter 17 - Pegasus Knight

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter is now subject to rewrite. Details posted on my profile under "Other News" as the most recent addition.**

* * *

Chapter 17 – Pegasus Knight

The Border Pass stands about a kilometer or two off. A long march through the western mountains eventually leads to the Border Pass, the gateway to Plegia that exists within the mountains. Despite our location being correct, however, I have yet to see the forces of Gangrel keeping watch from the steeps and cliffs. I would say I was surprised to see such a serious deviation from the plotline, but I'd be a fool to be surprised by anything such as that now. On a similar note, a delayed appearance isn't really anything in comparison to prior events, the existence of unknown pasts included. All that I can do in this situation, however, is simply to watch and wait for the appearance of a cue to galvanize us into action.

As I continue my steady pace, I resist the urge to glance back at Wellspring. Throughout the march, he had been acting in an unusual manner towards everyone, as evidenced by their discomfort when around him. Lon'qu is one of the only ones unaffected, a result of not having been in the group for a lengthy period of time. Kellam is another, though his reasons are obvious: people tend to ignore him anyways, though not necessarily intentionally. Robin, on the other hand, has smoothly adapted to his change in personality, though this is due mainly to her fascination as to such. As for me, I've noticed it through his unusually quiet demeanor, which, in the current situation, stands out in the silence.

Throughout the march, contact between Emmeryn and I had been minimalistic at best. Though my questions for her had never burned with harsher heat in my mind, it was that same desire that kept me from asking her. Part of me believed that all would be revealed in time, while the other understood all so clearly that time was of the essence and necessity. And, yet, I continued to uphold my position of forward recon, walking alongside a now-riderless Pegasus, whose care had been entrusted to me.

Taking a momentary break from my scans of the mountains, I glance at the Pegasus that trods beside me, keeping pace with my speed. As far as I had been concerned, Sumia had yet to give her a name, though I doubt that she would be able to now. Then again, the obvious doesn't need to be restated. I lift my hand to her saddle and then to the base of her neck. I can feel only her movements through the gloves, not her warmth nor the texture of her fur. "What's your name…?" It's a question directed at the Pegasus, though somewhat at myself by necessity. She doesn't turn her head to look at me, instead choosing to continue to look forward, specifically where I should be looking.

As I direct my glance back forward, and then around and at the cliffs of the pass, my first thought directs itself toward an ambush. It would be the most obvious situation: low visibility, little to no maneuverability, ease in quickly surrounding, no cover from enemy fire. Prime conditions. It worries me. Though I'm confident that both Wellspring and Robin have considered this chance possibility, that the Gangrel has prepped to ambush us worries me more. The subject matter begs the question as to why he might have done so, not so much if he does so. It's a question that, in my opinion, needs an answer even if it isn't necessarily vital.

As we reach the proper locationing of the battle of the Border Pass, a familiar laugh echoes out across the cliffs, even if its owner is shielded from view. "Welcome, your radiance, to the Plegian border!" Whilst Emmeryn seems relatively calm in the face of the danger, her entourage, which encompasses me, immediately braces itself for combat. "Gangrel! Show yourself!" Chrom's counter-response echoes off the walls of the pass, unhindered by anything that could dampen its sound. "My, my, what lack of manners. And from Ylisse's royalty. How disappointing. I was simply welcoming you." With a quick glance from Emmeryn, Chrom silences whatever response he has.

"King Gangrel, I've come for the truth of th-" "So sorry, your grace, but you come only to offer your official declaration of war." Without a chance to explain, nevermind to ask her question, Emmeryn finds her words cut off by Gangrel's eager opportunism. "I've no need for your formalities at this point." I dash my eyes over the tops of the cliffs, looking for any sign of the Plegian forces. However, only Gangrel's silhouette, which now appears further along the path, reveals itself to my eyes. I've no need to report the obvious, so I continue my observations. Emmeryn, though surprised by Gangrel's forwardness, continues her efforts at diplomacy. "Would you please explain?"

With this Aversa makes her appearance, stepping forward to Gangrel's right. "May I bring to your attention exhibit A!" From behind a section of mountain rock, a barbarian steps out with an easily recognizable girl in hold. "As you might already know, this girl crossed our border without consent. An understandable mistake. And when Plegian soldiers sought to escort her home, she resisted. Another understandable mistake. In all truthfulness, we could have let this pass without any further dispute. However, something else came up that demonstrated that this was not simply a mistake." Maribelle takes the chance to attempt to argue her case, pulling out her words from the script. However, with Aversa having said that her actions were understandable mistakes, her counter-argument doesn't have the same strength as it should have had. As she finishes, Aversa speaks once more. "It doesn't matter what you say, girl." Aversa turns her condescending gaze back towards Gangrel, passing the torch of accusation back unto him.

Accompanied by a horrified gasp from Maribelle, Gangrel tosses a hat into the air, which catches on the wind, and eventually lands right in front of me. "Recognize this piece of clothing?" Gangrel's words and tone are filled with a sense of disgust, and I pick the hat up hesitatingly. I recognize it, though I don't want to. A mage's cap, blue, and stained with dried blood where the hat would contact one's head. And considering that Miriel is already with us… "Soon after we imparted our message regarding her intrusion, we found ourselves set upon by a second assailant. With this, it's obvious that her actions were intentional, and performed under your command." With a laugh showing his confidence in his arguments, Gangrel delivers his point. "I don't even need bother with parley."

As a painful silence fills the pass, I grip Ricken's hat tightly in my hand. There is no doubt that the item belongs to Ricken. However, I refuse to accept his mere disappearance off the face of the earth if he truly is dead. It's too sudden. It makes sense that life can end with a snap of one's fingers, but this is beyond that type of suddenness. "However, your Graceliness, there is a possibility that I might be able to… Accept these transgressions." To put it in someone else's words, Gangrel's mad, but he isn't stupid. "You give me the Fire Emblem, and I refrain from declaring war and killing you in this pass." A moment's glance towards Maribelle, whose expression clearly informs one of her shock. "As for Mari Contrary… Perhaps we can arrange something else at another time. But first for the matter at hand." Silence once more prevails as the Mad King Gangrel awaits Exalt Emmeryn's answer.

Exalt Emmeryn breaks the quiet with a deep, contemplative breath. "…You want the Fire Emblem for the legend of it being the key to having one's wishes granted. However, its power is meant for a single purpose, a purpose that I believe you would forego." Irritation crosses the Mad King's previously amused face as the Exalt continues to speak. "Oh? Do go on." The Exalt, however, is unaffected by this taunt, and continues on, her path unobstructed and unmodified. "You would forego the world for vengeance upon a land that no longer is what is was. Ylisse is now a realm of peace." With that, the Exalt finishes her response.

The Mad King response begins with a sour laugh. "A realm of peace…" His expression hardens once more, just as expected. "Yours is a realm of hypocrisy." I lashes out his arm as he points at something. As I follow the line he draws in the air, I realize that he points at me. "A realm of peace, you say? How can you say that when she still walks with a weapon on her back?" With a scoff, he throws his hand up into the air, causing the forces that I had been expecting to appear on the cliffs surrounding us. "This negotiation is over, Your Luminosity. I shall have the Emblem if I have to pry it from your shiny dead hands." Two barbarians and a soldier quickly approach the Exalt, and Chrom draws his weapon to defend… But I don't need describe things I've already seen, do I?

The Pegasus that Sumia calmed that day stands by my side. Through that Pegasus, Sumia still stands beside me, willing, ready, and able to fight, if not through her own hands. One life will save another. And that life will save more. And the process will continue without end. I throw myself into the Pegasus' saddle and galvanize her into action, soaring into the sky. Within seconds, the cliffs that Maribelle and her captor stand upon are even with my height, and with a few seconds more, they stand below us. With a gentle nudge, I send the both of us into a dive.

The enemy that holds Maribelle hostage quickly finds himself driven into the ground by way of high speed hooves, and is instantly incapacitated. A look of startled shock crosses Aversa's face as I suddenly appear, pull a similarly off-guard Maribelle onto a rebounding Pegasus, and soar back into the sky just as quickly. I circle once, expecting Aversa to cast a bolt from a dark tome, which she does readily. A quick pull of the reins and the Pegasus swiftly dodges the deadly bolt, moments before reaccelerating into high-speed flight.

In a previous timeline, I had diverted myself to assist Ricken in an effort to save Maribelle. As it would turn out, he camps right on their outskirts overnight, waking to the "negotiations", and proceeding to save Maribelle from there. However, while I was there with him, we had been found out and put inside of an abandoned fort-turned prison brig. The fort chosen to be used was the one located furthest east of the Wyvern Rider column. As such, it's just as likely that Ricken was imprisoned there, had he survived, which I can't help but feel that he had.

"Where are you going!?" I can barely hear Maribelle's voice over the rush of wind as the Pegasus speeds towards our destination. Though I can hear her, however, I won't say that I do. Instead, I simply pretend to ignore her as we circle momentarily over the abandoned fort. The Wyvern Rider column had noticed us the moment I had dived in to save Maribelle, and is already prepared. However, their Wyverns can't keep up with the same speed that Sumia used to save Chrom back at the Longfort. Faster than the speed of a flying spear. It may not seem like much, but realize that the spears were already in-flight and were about to hit Chrom when Sumia flashed by on her Pegasus. Once more, with a gentle nudge, I send the three of us into a dive.

We cease our dive a few meters higher than the previous stunt, mainly due to the additional mass, and I jump off the Pegasus moments before she actually touches the ground. "Stay on her, but follow me." A command-request for Maribelle, and I lead the pair as I follow the reverse paths in my memory in order to find where I had initially been held. Within a minute, I find the cage, and I slash it open as I draw my right-ward Blade-Lance in one swift movement. Breathing softly and asleep in the corner with a bandage around his head, Ricken lies on the ground against the wall oblivious. I resheath my weapon and allow myself a sigh.

"How did you-" I wave off Maribelle's comment with a quick dismissal movement of my hand. "Not the time. We need to get you two back to everyone else." By this time, the war has officially begun between Ylisse and Plegia, and I'm confident that we were seen breaking into their prison block. I quickly move over to Ricken, pick up the still-sleeping teenager, who apparently is tired enough not to get up in response to this stimuli, and place him on the back of the Pegasus. Room only for two, but they don't need to know that yet.

As we step back out into the sunlight of the battlefield, I can already see the Wyvern Riders coming over the sides of the walls. Time to send these two off. "Take them back to the Shepherds." Fun fact of the battle number one: Despite not being able to understand human speech, Pegasi are actually quite capable of understanding any command a skilled rider gives them, even worded in human speech. With a sharp rap to her flank, the Pegasus flies off towards the Shepherds. I consider yelling out to them, "have a safe trip", but I decide against it. The main matter is the fact that Wyvern Riders are bearing down on my position.

Fun fact number two: I actually have quite a bit of trouble fighting airborne enemies without a tome. Which brings me back to the topic of going back to carrying a tome. Though I can cast mana-based attacks without a tome, it's actually notably physically stressful to attempt such nowadays, though I vaguely remember doing it commonly in the past. If you don't exercise a muscle, it's bound to weaken, after all. But that's a given. As the first of the Wyvern Riders dives down on me, however, I find myself asking the most unrelated question I could have contemplated upon for that moment: What should I name the Pegasus? That's a question for later. And so I draw my Blade-Lance…

* * *

**Author's note:**

**You can blame lambentLodestar for the creation of this chapter. She's an inspiration to me.**

**Please forgive the delay in positing this chapter. Several complications came to pass, and the delays continued to pile on. Specifically, sicknesses ((Especially this. Two weeks. It's not funny. Still sick now.)), actually trying to plan out this chapter ((Don't ever let me do this. It's never worked out for me.)), projects for Halloween that I need to finish ((Three Dimensional Maneuver Gear. Enough said.)), etc.**

**Oh, and I didn't know what to put as the chapter title.**

**((Fair warning, writing this when sick. Expect intermittent fail. Cause I normally can't write when sick.))**


	18. Chapter 17 Rewrite

**Author's note: ((You should seriously read this so you'll understand what this chapter is.))**

**So I figured out what was wrong with my previous chapter. As according to the errors I have found, I have made edits. This includes an addition of seven paragraphs, and various rewording and modification edits scattered throughout the chapter. Some are easily visible, some are subtle. Hopefully, this chapter should feel better than the last, considering I completely forgot someone... ****Who just became sooooo much more important in the story I have planned out.**

**If you want to know what edits I made to the chapter before you read ((Perhaps so that you know what to look for, and what you might want to skip over)), should you read, I've included an edit list at the end/bottom of this chapter.  
****It's quite long. Just gonna put that out there**

* * *

Chapter 17 – The Border Pass

"How's she holding up?" For a moment, I consider asking Robin whether she means the Pegasus that I'm walking alongside or whether she means Ena, but I quickly decide that it didn't fit the situation. "Ena's generally fine, though she seems…" The word disconnected doesn't fit, and antisocial feels much too harsh. The way I see it, she's nervous to an extent where she almost makes an effort to avoid talking to people unless, of course, she deems necessary. However, as I readily believe, this is most likely due to the fact that she faced off against her father, and also that she doesn't exactly have a parental figure present to fall back on. Of course, there's another reason, but such reason is already a given.

I meet Robin's expectant gaze to answer her question. "Ena's nervous, in a manner of speaking." Robin glances to the back of the column where Ena is currently positioned, a position that she had taken the time to specifically request. Considering the connotations of the rear guard, she might have requested the position to gain our trust, an admirable effort on her part. Of course, as expected, Chrom had assigned another Shepherd to accompany her for the same reason, specifically that she was yet a new addition to the shepherds and had yet to be completely trusted for obvious reasons. It is for this said obvious reason that I feel that she in fact requested the position to distance herself from me, who currently marches alongside Robin at the front of the column.

"I tried talking to her earlier." Robin's amused smile as she speaks her words don't exactly fit the subject she speaks about. "She's afraid that you might hate her for what she did." As mentioned, the obvious reason. Then again, I doubt that she would readily admit something like that. "And how'd you get that out of her?" Of course, as I expect, Robin admits that she didn't, but rather she assumes that it was the case, based on how the conversation progressed and accurately so, that Ena feels regret over what she did. Of course, Ena has no idea that I'd already forgiven her for what she did, though one might not expect me to do so. I mean, it was only an- That does not work. One cannot simply say, "It's only an insert piece of body here". And I doubt she'd forgive herself even if I forgave her. It's an arm for Naga's sake. I sigh as I put the task of finding out how to relieve Ena of her worry on my mental to-do list.

"I wonder how this conversation would have gone if I was actually talking about the Pegasus." I glance back at her, stifling a laugh. However, Robin doesn't laugh. "That's a serious question. What if I were actually talking about Sumia's Pegasus?" I shake my head in amusement at her. I'm sorry, Robin, I just can't take that question seriously. It's just not possible. "Come on, Chalys! Focus!" Not happening, Robin. No idea why, but this is just too funny. This is an inappropriate amount of laughter for this situation. It really isn't all that funny. I force myself to take a deep breath, clearing my thoughts as I do so, and I cease my laughter to actually answer her question. "Sumia's Pegasus seems fine, actually, despite what happened. Why do you ask?" I imagine Robin shrugging her shoulders as she speaks her words. "Just curious."

I turn my attention back to the Border Pass as it stands about a kilometer or two off. A long march through the western mountains eventually leads to the Border Pass, the gateway to Plegia that exists within the mountains. Despite our location being correct, however, I have yet to see the forces of Gangrel keeping watch from the steeps and cliffs. I would say I was surprised to see such a serious deviation from the plotline, but I'd be a fool to be surprised by anything such as that now. On a similar note, a delayed appearance isn't really anything in comparison to prior events, the existence of unknown pasts included. All that I can do in this situation, however, is simply to watch and wait for the appearance of a cue to galvanize us into action.

As I continue my steady pace, I resist the urge to glance back at Wellspring. Throughout the march, he had been specifically making efforts to avoid or distance himself from people, as evidenced by their discomfort when regarding him. Lon'qu is one of the only ones unaffected, a result of not having been in the group for a lengthy period of time. Kellam is another, though his reasons are obvious: people tend to ignore him anyways, though not necessarily intentionally. Robin, on the other hand, has smoothly adapted to his change in personality, though this is due mainly to her fascination as to such. As for me, I've noticed it through his unusually quiet demeanor, which, in the current situation, stands out in the silence.

Throughout the march, contact between Emmeryn and I had been minimalistic at best. Though my questions for her had never burned with harsher heat in my mind, it was that same desire that kept me from asking her. Part of me believed that all would be revealed in time, while the other understood all so clearly that time was of the essence and necessity. And, yet, I continued to uphold my position of forward recon, walking alongside a now-riderless Pegasus, whose care had been entrusted to me, as Robin follows behind me, matching her steps unconsciously with mine. Then again, it may have been me matching my steps with hers.

Taking a momentary break from my scans of the mountains, I glance at the Pegasus that trods beside me, keeping pace with my speed. As far as I had been concerned, Sumia had yet to give her a name, though I doubt that she would be able to now. Then again, the obvious doesn't need to be restated. I lift my hand to her saddle and then to the base of her neck. I can feel only her movements through the gloves, not her warmth nor the texture of her fur. "What's your name…?" It's a question directed at the Pegasus, though somewhat at myself by necessity. She doesn't turn her head to look at me, instead choosing to continue to look forward, specifically where I should be looking.

"Come to think of it, Sumia never gave her a name." I look at Robin whose hand casually sits on the Pegasus's empty saddle. At least I'm not the only one under the impression that Sumia never gave her Pegasus a name, though Robin's more likely to be sure of it that I would be. A thought suddenly crosses my mind and I turn my head to look back at Robin. "What would you name her?" Robin turns her gaze up the sky as she engages herself in thought. "I don't think I would name her, actually." I wait patiently for her to continue, as she quickly realizes why I maintained my silence. "I don't think it's really my place." This would be the right place for a song to play, if anyone in our column had an instrument. Maybe someone does, and I just don't know it yet. Now I wonder what song would play.

Then again, there aren't that many songs in my memory to choose from. At least, none that I remember consciously. On that note, I have sung some songs from muscle memory before, believe it or not. For example, one of the songs has a line that goes, "A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar." I can only assume that it's some kind of currency. Anyways, the line goes on to basically say that people care more about what others say when they're dead and gone, as if they somehow have more wisdom dead than when they were alive. In my experience, this has been the general case. Not really a good practice, but I guess it makes sense.

As I direct my glance back forward, and then around and at the cliffs of the pass, my first thought directs itself toward an ambush. It would be the most obvious situation: low visibility, little to no maneuverability, ease in quickly surrounding, no cover from enemy fire. Prime conditions. It worries me. Though I'm confident that both Wellspring and Robin have considered this chance possibility, that the Gangrel has prepped to ambush us worries me more. The subject matter begs the question as to why he might have done so, not so much if he does so. It's a question that, in my opinion, needs an answer even if it isn't necessarily vital.

"Robin, what does this look like to you?" I don't look back at her as I assume that she's listening, and elaborate on my point. "Look at the area surrounding us, take note of the terrain and our location. What does this look like to you." Robin chuckles, amused, and I find myself mentally forced to look back at her, who shakes her head in similar amusement. "You sound like you're trying to tell me something." I find myself tempted to gawk at her for that, but I keep my mouth closed, instead choosing to stare at her expectantly and seriously, to which she laughs nervously. "I- I know, it looks like an ambush." Don't worry, Robin, I'm just checking my mental sanity against your strategic instincts, and I deliver a smile in order to calm her nerves.

As we reach the proper locationing of the battle of the Border Pass, a familiar laugh echoes out across the cliffs, even if its owner is shielded from view. "Welcome, your radiance, to the Plegian border!" Whilst Emmeryn seems relatively calm in the face of the danger, her entourage, which also includes me even as I stand far ahead of the column, immediately braces itself for combat. "Gangrel! Show yourself!" Chrom's counter-response echoes off the walls of the pass, unhindered by anything that could dampen its sound. "My, my, what lack of manners. And from Ylisse's royalty. How disappointing. I was simply welcoming you." With a quick glance from Emmeryn, Chrom silences whatever response he has.

"King Gangrel, I've come for the truth of th-" "So sorry, your grace, but you come only to offer your official declaration of war." Without a chance to explain, nevermind to ask her question, Emmeryn finds her words cut off by Gangrel's eager opportunism. "I've no need for your formalities at this point." I dash my eyes over the tops of the cliffs, looking for any sign of the Plegian forces. However, only Gangrel's silhouette, which now appears further along the path, reveals itself to my eyes. I've no need to report the obvious, so I continue my observations. Emmeryn, though surprised by Gangrel's forwardness, continues her efforts at diplomacy. "Would you please explain?"

With this Aversa makes her appearance, stepping forward to Gangrel's right. "May I bring to your attention exhibit A!" From behind a section of mountain rock, a barbarian steps out with an easily recognizable girl in hold. "As you might already know, this girl crossed our border without consent. An understandable mistake. And when Plegian soldiers sought to escort her home, she resisted. Another understandable mistake. In all truthfulness, we could have let this pass without any further dispute." I actually have to stifle a laugh when I hear this pure, wholehearted, completely and appropriately modified-by-the-timeline lie.

"However, something else came up that demonstrated that this was not simply a mistake." Maribelle takes the chance to attempt to argue her case, pulling out her words from the script. However, with Aversa having said that her actions were understandable mistakes, her counter-argument doesn't have the same strength as it should have had. As she finishes, Aversa speaks once more. "It doesn't matter what you say, girl." Aversa turns her condescending gaze back towards Gangrel, passing the torch of accusation back unto him.

Accompanied by a horrified gasp from Maribelle, Gangrel tosses a hat into the air, which catches on the wind, and eventually lands right in front of me. "Recognize this piece of clothing?" Gangrel's words and tone are filled with a sense of disgust, and I pick the hat up hesitatingly. I recognize it, though I don't want to. A mage's cap, blue, and stained with dried blood, specifically where the hat would contact one's head. And considering that Miriel is already with us… "Soon after we imparted our message regarding her intrusion, one of her guards happened to be in possession of this. Considering the colors, I could easily judge that it didn't belong to Plegia." With a laugh showing his confidence in his arguments, Gangrel delivers his point. "I don't even need bother with parley."

As a painful silence fills the pass, I grip Ricken's hat tightly in my hand. There is no doubt that the item belongs to Ricken. However, as obviously so as the evidence could make him out to be, I can't accept that he might possibly be dead. It's too sudden. It makes sense that life can end with a snap of one's fingers, but this is beyond that type of suddenness. "However, your Graceliness, there is a possibility that I might be able to… Accept these transgressions." To put it in someone else's words, Gangrel's mad, but he isn't stupid: Though he both desires a war and the Fire Emblem, his priorities are set well. If he could get the Fire Emblem without a war, there would be a possible chance that he could still get his desires without a need for more Plegian Deaths. "You give me the Fire Emblem, and I refrain from declaring war and killing you in this pass." A moment's glance towards Maribelle, whose expression clearly informs one of her shock. "As for Mari Contrary… Perhaps we can arrange something else at another time. But first for the matter at hand." Silence once more prevails as the Mad King Gangrel awaits Exalt Emmeryn's answer.

Exalt Emmeryn breaks the quiet with a deep, contemplative breath. "…You want the Fire Emblem for the legend of it being the key to having one's wishes granted. However, its power is meant for a single purpose, a purpose that I believe you would forego." Irritation crosses the Mad King's previously amused face as the Exalt continues to speak, apparently already knowing his reasons for his demands. "Oh? Do go on." The Exalt, however, is unaffected by this taunt, and continues on, her path unobstructed and unmodified. "You would forego the world for vengeance upon a land that no longer is what is was. Ylisse is now a realm of peace." With that, the Exalt finishes her response.

The Mad King response begins with a sour laugh. "A realm of peace…" His expression hardens once more, just as expected. "Yours is a realm of hypocrisy." I lashes out his arm as he points at something. As I follow the line he draws in the air, I realize that he points at me. "A realm of peace, you say? How can you say that when she still walks with a weapon on her back?" And then, suddenly, I'm the cause for the negotiations to break down. Seriously, what the hell did I do in my apparent past life? I glance over to Robin, whose expression of shock most likely mimics mine moments before it returns to an expression of serious rage.

As I look at Robin, the memory of Wellspring talking to Robin on the way back to Ylisse flashes through my mind, moments before my focus returns to Gangrel. With a scoff, he throws his hand up into the air, causing the forces that I had been expecting to appear on the cliffs surrounding us. "This negotiation is over, Your Luminosity. I shall have the Emblem if I have to pry it from your shiny dead hands." Two barbarians and a soldier quickly approach the Exalt, and Chrom draws his weapon to defend… But I don't need describe things I've already seen, do I?

The Pegasus that Sumia calmed that day stands by my side. Through that Pegasus, Sumia still stands beside me, willing, ready, and able to fight, if not through her own hands. One life will save another. And that life will save more. And the process will continue without end. Deciding not to wait for a command from Robin, which would surely result in me flying towards my targets anyways, I throw myself into the Pegasus' saddle and galvanize her into action, soaring into the sky. Within seconds, the cliffs that Maribelle and her captor stand upon are even with my height, and with a few seconds more, they stand below us. With a gentle nudge, I send the both of us into a dive.

The enemy that holds Maribelle hostage quickly finds himself driven into the ground by way of high speed hooves. I momentarily imagine what the scene might have been like if the Pegasus's hooves had spikes attached to them, though I mentally silence myself fragments of milliseconds later. This not the right time for such thoughts, but it _is_ an awesome idea to consider for later. A look of startled shock crosses Aversa's face as I suddenly appear, pull a similarly off-guard Maribelle onto a rebounding Pegasus, and soar back into the sky just as quickly. I circle once, expecting Aversa to cast a bolt from a dark tome, which she does readily. A quick pull of the reins and the Pegasus swiftly dodges the deadly bolt, moments before reaccelerating into high-speed flight. My imagination acts up once more, randomly wondering what kind of awesome Pegasus battle armor could the Ylissean smithies provide. But this is not the time.

In a previous timeline, I had diverted myself to assist Ricken in an effort to save Maribelle. As it would turn out, he camps right on their outskirts overnight, waking to the "negotiations", and proceeding to save Maribelle from there. However, while I was there with him, we had been found out and put inside of an abandoned fort-turned prison brig. The fort chosen to be used was the one located furthest east of the Wyvern Rider column. As such, it's just as likely that Ricken was imprisoned there, had he survived, which I can't help but feel that he had.

"Where are you going!?" I can barely hear Maribelle's voice over the rush of wind as the Pegasus speeds towards our destination. Though I can hear her, however, I don't vocally admit to her that I do. Instead, I simply pretend to ignore her as we quickly close on the the abandoned fort. The Wyvern Rider column had noticed us the moment I had dived in to save Maribelle, and is already preparing for hard contact, a mere few milliseconds away. However, though their mounts might have strength and endurance greater than a Pegasus, their Wyverns can't keep up with the same speed that Sumia used to save Chrom back at the Longfort: Faster than the speed of a flying spear. It may not seem like much, but realize that the spears were already in-flight and were about to hit Chrom when Sumia flashed by on her Pegasus. Not to mention, in person and up front, it visibly seems as if Chrom simply disappears from the line of fire, and then suddenly reappearing in the air. With this in mind, once more, with a gentle nudge, I send the three of us into a dive.

We cease our dive a few meters higher than the previous stunt, mainly due to the additional mass, and I jump off the Pegasus moments before she actually touches the ground. "Stay on her, but follow me." A command-request for Maribelle, and I lead the pair as I follow the reverse paths in my memory in order to try and recall specifically where I had initially been held. Within a minute, I find the cage, and I slash it open as I draw my right-ward Blade-Lance in one swift movement. Breathing softly and asleep and/or unconscious in some way in the corner with a bandage around his head, Ricken lies on the ground against the wall oblivious. I resheath my weapon and allow myself a sigh.

"How did you-" I wave off Maribelle's comment with a quick dismissal movement of my hand. "Not the time. We need to get you two back to everyone else." By this time, the war has officially begun between Ylisse and Plegia, and I'm confident that we were seen breaking into their prison block. I quickly move over to Ricken, pick up the still-sleeping teenager, who apparently is tired enough not to get up in response to this stimuli, and place him on the back of the Pegasus. Room only for two, but they don't need to know that yet. Considering this, I also realize that I'm bound to seem suspicious: I apparently know where Ricken was being held, and now I'm intentionally cutting myself off from my allies.

As we step back out into the sunlight of the battlefield, I can already see the Wyvern Riders coming over the sides of the walls. Time to send these two off. "Take them back to the Shepherds." Fun fact of the battle number one: Despite not being able to understand human speech, Pegasi are actually quite capable of understanding any command a skilled rider gives them, even worded in human speech. With a sharp rap to her flank, the Pegasus flies off towards the Shepherds. I consider yelling out to them, "have a safe trip", but I decide against it. The main matter is the fact that Wyvern Riders are bearing down on my position.

Fun fact number two: I actually have quite a bit of trouble fighting airborne enemies without a tome. Which brings me back to the topic of going back to carrying a tome. Though I can cast mana-based attacks without a tome, it's actually notably physically stressful to attempt such nowadays, though I vaguely remember doing it commonly in the past. If you don't exercise a muscle, it's bound to weaken, after all. But that's a given. As the first of the Wyvern Riders dives down on me, however, I find myself asking the most unrelated question I could have contemplated upon for that moment: What should I name the Pegasus? That's a question for later. And so I draw my Blade-Lance…

* * *

_Edits:  
-Addition of four paragraphs after the title.  
-Modification to account for the additional paragraphs.  
-Rewording of Wellspring's actions so that the reader knows what he specifically did.  
-Modification to account for the fact that Robin is positioned with Chalysane at the front.  
-Addition of two paragraphs after the eighth paragraph.  
-Addition of one paragraph after the eleventh paragraph.  
-Rewording of a sentence in regards to Chalysane's reasons preparing for combat.  
-Included Chalysane's reaction to Maribelle's actions being "Understandable mistakes".  
^-Divided involved paragraph as a balancing fix.  
-Reworded Gangrel's response so that it fit the situation in a better way ((in my opinion, that is.))  
-Reworded Chalysane's response to the situation involving Ricken.  
-Added Chalysane's reasoning for the line, "Gangrel's mad, but he isn't stupid."  
-Added explanation for Gangrel's irritation at Emmeryn.  
-Added Chalysane's reaction to Gangrel pointing at her for a certain reason. ((Anti-spoiler combat.))  
^-Split the chapter, and added in another sentence for a certain effect. __((Anti-spoiler combat.))_  
-Modified a sentence to account for the fact that Robin is next to Chalysane when she flies off.  
-Added in a reference to Chalysane's occasionally random thought process.  
-Reworded Chalysane's method of ignoring Maribelle's panic/worry/anxiety.  
-Modified how the Wyvern Riders react to Chalysane's approach.  
-Added in a short comparison of the Wyvern's and the Pegasus's highlights.  
-Added in a description of what it looked like when Sumia rescued Chrom. ((She's breaking records there.))  
-Reworded various descriptors in the paragraph where Chalysane searches for someone. ((Anti-spoiler combat.))  
-Added in Chalysane's thoughts of how _staying behind could seem very suspicious.  
_

_**Just say the word if you want the other version of this chapter taken down to compensate.  
****I'd be quite willing to.**  
_


	19. Chapter 18 - Tomahawk

Chapter 18 – Tomahawk

In all truthfulness, combat against flying targets isn't so much dangerous for me as it is annoying. And frustrating. As I quickly deflect the Wyvern Rider's first slash as he brings him or herself back up into the air and out of my reach, my first thought goes to how Swordmasters can kill the darned things. Actually, not even just Swordmasters. All of the slower classes. I can jump up into the air high enough, just like everyone else, but they always seem to get out of the way just in time. And yet, apparently, even generals in their hulking armor can get to them fast enough to land a strike. Is it a problem only I have? Another one of the group dives past me, his or her axe leveled at my neck. On the other hand, sometimes they dive at me from the wrong angle, though this is due to their numbers, and this Wyvern Rider suddenly finds him or herself crashing to the ground, labeling itself as kill number four.

Actually, come to think of it, anyone else can easily find the perfect time to strike out at them. Seriously, every time someone else makes their move against a Pegasus Knight, Wyvern Rider, or whatever other mount the person's riding, they always attack right when they're in their reach. Me? I'm simply hapless in my efforts to take them down. In the end, I can't make an offensive move as effectively as I can defensively. Almost all of my kills against flying targets involve them making a mistake when diving past or at me or something along those lines. This, of course, makes it all the worse when it comes to the more skilled flyers, such as Orton, who has just decided to advance upon me. Probably because he doesn't want his lesser skilled forces to die so needlessly against me.

As he maintains a position beyond my reach, hefting his weapon in his hand, I remember exactly how annoying he is. This is specifically due to the fact that he is both a flying target and a user of a ranged weapon. Specifically a Tomahawk. Considering his laughs as he prepares his pre-battle quote, the look on my face must clearly be priceless. Annoying flier. "Never thought I'd see your face. I don't need to ask for your name. Only your life." This knowing me is going to get really annoying. I can't help but sigh as I realize this, and this elicits obvious irritation on Orton's part. "Condescending, aren't you? Just die already!" And with this, he launches a Tomahawk at me.

Unluckily for him, I know how to deflect these attacks. Sure, he might not be on the ground and using a Tomahawk as opposed to a Short Axe, like Garrick back in Southtown, but that's still an axe-type projectile. He'd have more success with a spear-type weapon in making me worry, as I can't exactly deflect those as easily, I as I usually end up defaulting mainly to dodges. Then again, this is of no current concern to me as I slash his Tomahawk down out of the air. I toss him an irritated and bored look, to which he responds with a similar frustration, and I can't help but call out to him. "What'd you expect me to do?!" It's part joke, but with a lineage that clearly proclaims it to be serious.

With a similar tone, Orton shouts back his, in my point of view, mockingly obvious answer. "I expected you to die!" I'm not gonna stand for that. Nope. With the same irritated glare on my face, I pull his thrown Tomahawk out of position embedded the ground and launch it straight back at him. "You go die!" But no, I don't know my axes as well as my lances. I can somehow throw a sword, whose center of mass makes it unsuitable for flight, but I apparently can't throw an axe, whose center of mass makes it ideal for such. As a result, the Tomahawk goes embarrassingly wide, and disappears off the side of a cliff. Orton watches the axe as it follows its poorly developed trajectory, and erupts into laughter. I swear to Naga, what'd I give to have a tome right now. Or even a bow. Not that a bow would serve me much better, but at least I'd have more things to shoot at him to try and knock him down.

He throws a few more Tomahawks at me, which end up being slashed into the ground just like the first, and I attempt to respond by throwing them back at him, which also end up much like the first. Except for probably one, though I don't know what exactly happened to it, only that Orton winced before laughing. Eventually, we mutually decide on a stalemate, though we don't voice it aloud. Also, I can only assume that it was a stalemate because he stopped throwing Tomahawks at me while staying in his general position. Had there not been a battle occurring a little ways down the mountain range, there would have been a terribly awkward silence between us.

He can't turn his back towards me, and he knows that the moment he chooses to do so, he gives me a chance to kill him. Though, considering me, I might somehow find a way to fail anyways. But he doesn't know that. As for me, I can't look away because he would launch another Tomahawk at me. Then again, in all truthfulness, I could probably just dodge it or slash it out of the air with the same ease as always. In the end, it's more so respect in my case. But he doesn't know this. "Why aren't you attacking?" Feeling somewhat exasperated, specifically by the fact that he doesn't already understand why I'd been throwing his Tomahawks back at him, I sheath my Blade-Lance let myself flop onto the ground.

It's not really a smart move, I admit this. However, I can still see him, and I can still move out of the way of anything he throws at me. The only thing that could pose a threat to me, really, are the mages that are down the slope, which are, as a result, in a position where they can't hit me. As for his other troops, I'd hear them approach the moment they even tried, not that they'd move without an order from Orton, which I would also hear. "You can't kill me. Why do I need to try to kill you?" Switch those two sentences I just spoke around, and it immediately changes the tone. But, as it is, it sounds more as if I just don't want to fight, which would be the truth. Why does anyone need to die? Because of a clash of their leader's values. Then again, I do believe Orton agrees with Gangrel's desires. He does say, "Soon war will be upon your soil", after all. And then he chuckles a bit as he slips away into death.

"You just can't hit me, can you?" I respond to this with a simple answer. "Yep." One worded reply speaking of obvious defeat, to which he laughs hysterically. His laughter fails to unnerve me, however, if such was his intention. I doubt it, however. If he realizes that I've no need to attack him because I can't touch him, then he should be able to realize that I'm lying on the ground because I've no need to fear him either. As his laughter quickly dies out, I can assume that he's realized this. I consider saying something else to him to try and incite him into action, but I decide it's next to pointless. I'm not going to learn how to properly throw axes, nevermind Tomahawks, in a single battle.

In all honesty, I'm not actually completely helpless. For example, I could try and do the same thing that I did to Joshua back in the arena. Or I could perchance throw a half of my Blade-Lance at him. He'd probably die either way, either from falling from his height, having the wyvern fall on top of him, being impaled by a blade, taking the mana blast to the face, or a myriad of other ways. However, controlling mana like that is very physically taxing, and throwing a half of my Blade-Lance would obviously reduce my combat capabilities. Hence, I decide not to do either.

The sounds of the battle down the slope gradually grow louder as the Shepherds cut their way through the Plegian ranks. Orton's glances are evidence that he's clearly not feeling too confident against them. I would be too surprised if the "Archest of Archers" were giving a wondrous demonstration of his capabilities and potential. Or perhaps Robin's baffling the foes with her surgeon-like grasp over the realm of strategy. Then again, the mere image of Frederick tearing through his enemies as if they were nothing, all the while smiling, would be a sight to behold in and of itself. As for Kellam, I think that it might more so closely resemble enemies suddenly disappearing. Apparently, those who Kellam kills take on his fascinating ability of invisibility, albeit unintentional.

On the topic of what everyone might be doing, I wonder what Ena would be doing around this time. She's clearly inexperienced in battle, even if she might have a little bit of control over the flow of time around her. It'd probably be a good idea to get Frederick to possibly train her, as devastating as his training might be for her. However, considering her weapon, it would have been best for Joshua to train her. That is, had Joshua been part of the Shepherds and not threatening her because he doesn't know who she is. Speaking of such, I don't see an easy way of repairing that situation.

Orton has almost completely broken his attention away from me at this point. As based upon one minute intervals, his time ratios of looking at me versus looking at the battle have changed drastically. Initially placing at 59 seconds to about one second, it has now changed to something like 20-40. I decide to address this. "What are you going to do, Orton?" His answer should be relatively easy to predict. He was given orders by Gangrel to annihilate every Ylissean in the valley, is obviously about to fail those orders, and most likely die as a result. He's clearly distracted, and probably realizes at this point that he's spent the whole battle being distracted by a person who can't kill him.

He answers as I expect him to. "I'm going to join the fight." Finally. Took you long enough to decide such. He turns his wyvern towards the battle and begins his approach, quickly moving to the edge of the cliff, closing on the ground as he prepares to dive towards the battle. There's the unexpected chance. I roll onto my side, pushing both of my hands to ground, and I kick my topside leg across from me, creating a wide balance angle. Keeping with the momentum, I lift my groundside leg from the ground as I kick my leg and push my body away from the ground, putting myself into a spin balanced on my other leg immediately after it makes contact with the ground. After a single rotation, I throw myself into a dash with the momentum I had gained in the spin, and I draw my Blade-Lance. Orton obviously hears me and wheels his wyvern around to face me. But, by the time he does this, I've already leveled myself with him.

Seconds later, I land on the edge of the cliff as Orton, along with his wyvern, tumbles down the side of it. The Wyvern Riders that remain only have steel axes, something which will eventually force them to come into close quarters with me, which will obviously end in my favor. That is, assuming that they would end up engaging me. However, they end up choosing to engage the Shepherds, who quickly and easily overwhelm the rest of them, reinforcements and all. Just five kills, but that would be considered a good sortie in anyone's book. Not to mention considering they were all airborne targets. Might as well call me an Ace then. On that note, the term "Ace", though naturally foreign in Ylisse, was apparently introduced by Wellspring at some point. Then again, the term was introduced exclusively for fliers making kills against other fliers, or so I've heard.

I glance down at Orton as he lies unmoving at the bottom of the slope. It wasn't the longest period of time in which I fought with him, nor was it the shortest. It isn't the most I've spoken with him, nor was it the least. An average engagement overall. That's all that is was ever supposed to be. The battle with Orton is supposed to be looked at for a moment, dealt with, and left behind. Despite being distinctly named, after the battle, one almost never thinks of him again. I can't help but feel that it's a bit unfair. His sentiments towards seeing the downfall of Ylisse mimics Gangrel's. In fact, the main difference between the two might just be that Orton's a soldier and Gangrel's a king. However, unlike Orton, when Gangrel dies, he'll be remembered. The Shepherds that lag behind the main group don't even look at his fallen form. It's almost depressing.

Considering that I had been the only one to fight him, I don't believe that anyone would further remember Orton's name other than a bit of recognition. No one would remember where the name came from. As such, had the Pegasus been a male, I might have named him Orton, as weird as it might have been, had I been as naïve as I was in the past with the same sentiments as now. Naming the Pegasus you ride upon after an enemy that you personally killed… Could be a show of dominance, rather than remembrance, which would defeat the point. Besides, the Pegasus is a female, and I still feel that she belongs to Sumia despite having her care entrusted to me. Not to mention that it generally feels terribly wrong to name the Pegasus after an enemy. But that's a given.

I glance further down the slope to find Maribelle standing next to Sumia's Pegasus. As for Ricken, he still lies asleep in the saddle. Ena also appears to be with them, which answers the questions I had subconsciously asked throughout the battle. Though, I actually somewhat half-expected her to be alongside Robin, not that I know specifically why I felt that way. Then again, it doesn't matter as long as she's safe. "Chalysane! You okay?!" Robin's voice cuts through my thoughts and brings me back to where I'm standing. Specifically on the edge of a cliff. I wave a hand towards her as I give her my answer. "Yep. Insert reassuring phrase here." This elicits a laugh from her, but my expression remains as it was before I spoke my words. I sincerely don't know what to say there.

As I turn to rejoin the main group of Shepherds, I cast one more glance at the fallen Orton. He hasn't moved since he stopped tumbling down the slope. Neither has his wyvern. One of his Tomahawks lies embedded in the ground a few feet away from his position. For a moment, I imagine it being bloodied, and my armor being cut open in some place. I look down at my armor and see blood seeping from the wound, a potentially lethal blow, one that requires operation. That would have made his existence more memorable. He wouldn't be forgotten as easily.

But as I look down to challenge my imagination, I find my armor as undamaged as before. In fact, none of the Wyvern Riders had succeeded in landing a successful strike on me. Of course, it's for the best, but… I sigh as I look away from Orton's remains. I hadn't even heard his death quote.

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**Author's note:**

**Sincerely, Friday the Thirteenth.**

**The story of the battle at the Border Pass. Filled with awesomeness, humor, and contemplative minds. Sadly, I couldn't add much more to this chapter because I have yet to re-conquer this level on Lunatic. Going off of what I remember here, and my memory is terrible. Either way, Here's hoping people like it xP**


	20. Chapter 19 - Paralogue 1A - Lyra

Chapter 19 - Paralogue 1A - Lyra

The bar resounds with the jolly, echoing voices and noises of its patrons, both as they either sing their songs, have their conversations, or whatever by-chance warrants their voices. I glance over to the man sitting next to me as he takes a sip from his glass. Following upon his cue, I do the same, allowing myself to indulge in the spirit. It burns… But in a nice way. And, as the fiery drink runs down my throat, I feel my cheeks flush red. A deeper red. As if they weren't already so.

"Y'said yer name was… Lyra somemin?" Exactly what I told him. Minus the last name. That's his imagination. I only told him Lyra. Might as well tell him the full thing. "Rila Wellspring. But people call me Lyra 'cause Rila's weird to say. 'Sides, it sounds the same. Then my conversation partner points his finger at me. My eyes drift momentarily to the tip of his finger before I force them back to his eyes. "And you know someone named Marth?" That's an easy one to respond to."Yep~"

He slouches his shoulders and props his head up on an open palm as his elbow rests at the bar. "You must be drunk outta yer mind." I can hold my drinks well, thank you. Somehow. But I can't tell right now. I'd be biased. That's what every person thinks when they're drunk, right? And, at this moment, I'm far from an exception. I think I came here… two hours ago? Can't exactly remember what I was doing before then. I doubt I'll remember much from tonight.

The crowd roars as a song I don't recognize begins to play. "What's this song?" My conversation partner takes another sip from his cup as he shoots me an amused glance. "Ylissean anthem. Y'don't knowit?" Huh. Should've recognized it. Then again, maybe it changed. Different time and all that stuff.

"Not from around here." That's my usual response to things like this. Good excuse for everything. That is, only if you play it right. Otherwise, it sounds just darn suspicious. "Where're you from?" You've gotta answer quickly and decisively, no hesitation involved. As if you've answered the question countless times before. "Ferox~" That's my usual answer. That is, after all, where I was born in my past. False past, but it's real for the moment.

"Y'don't sound like a Feroxi…" I allow myself a laugh as he says this, just as I should. "I get that a lot." It's true. I do get it a lot. I'm actually Ylissean, but my conversation partner doesn't need to know that. Besides, I'd look bad, not knowing the anthem. "You don't look like-un either. Too pretty for that." I hide my face instinctively, covering the side of my face with impulsively-strategically placed fingers. Anyone gets embarrassed easily when drunk. That's a fact. It's been proven through countless instances of research. Well, in the cases of people I know, anyways. Convenience of sample bias.

I respond to my conversation partner's wordplay with an attempt at deflection. "Oh shush. Now you're just teasing me." Unwilling to let me set up any defense in a battle he might not believe should be won, he changes the subject and smoothly steps onto another."Don't go bein' humble. Bet you can sing as good as you look." That's an interesting change of subject. Who goes from looks to singing ability?

But I allow my conversation partner his fun and respond to his prompt. "I can't. But I can play." Actually, I can sing. I just play better. In my opinion, of course. I can play most any instrument, actually, but I like the piano the most."On that thing over there, right?" Then again, I don't know what it's called here. So I'll just call it "that thing" for now. "Yep. On that thing. Sounds off. Probably 'cause of abuse."

His follow up to my response is priceless. "He's just bad." I can't help but laugh as I hear him say this, and it takes me a moment before I can pronounce my own words. "That's blunt." He continues on with a similarly hilarious statement. "And true. He'll admit it." As my spirits once more rise to a point right above my head, I take another draught of my drink, draining the glass. It's both an attempt at preventing myself from laughing and a method of increasing the sense of calmness of the situation. Then again, considering alcohol, it's going to backfire any moment.

I hold up a silver and call upon the bartender, who walks over and refills my cup. I take another sip. At this point, I'm confident I'll be having a hangover tomorrow. Doesn't matter to me right now. The growing buzz and numbness and fuzziness feel good. "Go play one-a yer songs." I finally untilt my cup, ending my prolonged "sip". As I think about it just a little bit more, I admit that I could've kept that "sip" going much longer. I think I would've enjoyed it.

But it's about time that I answered my conversation partner's question. "I'm not going to bother him…" "Hey! Let this gal have the piano, Donny!" So it's called a piano here too? Thought dad was the only one…"Now go up there and play one-a yer songs!" Oh gods, I just realized he kicked him off for me. I didn't catch that until just now! I was stuck on the word piano! Donny. That's the… Previous player's name. Time to get up and play the piano. Wait, what-

I nearly fall as I get up from my seat. I just noticed that my balance is really off. It takes a lot of mental stability to play the piano, and, if I can't keep my balance, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to play. "I don't think I can play like this…" Then again, this is the case for me. It might not be so for every- Gods, standing is really weird right now. "Just do it Lyra!" I swear to truth, did I… Gods, forget it.

I struggle to make my way to the placement of the instrument, and I take a seat on the seat of the piano. Can't recall the name. The bench thing. I place my hands on the edge next to the keys for a moment, trying to think of a good song to play for them. "Sing too!" I hate you… Whatever your name was. I don't think I ever asked. I don't really hate you, just thought I should let you know. I was kidding. I. Talking to you's nice, really. I'd be willing to keep doing it all night, actually. I haven't had much contact with society-At least I don't think I have- but still, you get the point, ri- Wait, you asked me to-oh yeah.

Okay, a song that I've memorized, fits the party-type mood… Gods, I don't know. "C'mon! Play us a song!" That's my cue, straight from my conversation partner himself! And I still haven't picked out a song! Oh gods, oh gods… Uh, um… Pianoman! That should work! Piano song with lyrics and I've memorized it all! And it's talking about a bar too, so it's even more so good. In fact, it might be perfect!

It takes a few moments to find the starting key. Dad taught me the song about eight years ago.I played it sporadically since then, but the latest play-through was not recent enough for complete confidence. I'll just have to hope that my muscles remember the patterns. This is the song to play for tonight, and confidence will not be the factor that prevents me from doing so. There's the key. It takes a moment, but soon I have the opening melody on my fingers and in my head. A few seconds later and the notes roll off my fingers and onto and through the piano. As the opening lyrics approach, the words come to mind and mouth as naturally as they used to.

"It's nine o'clock on a Saturday,

The regular crowd shuffles in…

There's an old man sitting next to me,

Making love to his tonic and gin…"

This was the first song I learned how to sing, actually. I'd learned how to play other songs with lyrics, but I couldn't sing them until then. In fact, I hadn't talked until around that time. I'd been born mute. It was dad's and Mrs. Pavais's work that gave me my voice. Though, it was mostly Mrs. Pavais in the end. She was the one that knew her mana and stuff. Apparently, she's so good, she can make mana do things that no one else can. Like give a person her voice with a Restore staff! I wonder if my voice would have sounded different if I had been born with it… No matter. The song finishes. Well, I come to my learned end of it, at least. Odd… That came so quickly…

"Do another!" Why would you do this to me! Oh wait, that's Donny's dad. Donny's dad was the guy who ushered me up here. No wonder he could so easily tell Donny to- Wait a sec, he did tell me who he was. He was the father of the person who was playing. I asked him when he sat down next- Memory, you suck. Now of all times?! Wait, they asked me to play another song, right!? Gods, oh gods, oh gods… Forget this! Crossing Field!

* * *

I'm back at my seat at the bar. I had a few more drinks, both as I played and after. I had to play five more songs after Crossing Field… Oh gods, can I just sleep here tonight. Might as well ask. "Pardon… But do you… Curses, what's the word… Bed. Hotel. Inn. Do you do that?" My words are _not_ coming to mouth like they should. Like the connection's messed up. How many gods damned drinks did I have… It's not the first time I've been like this, and it certainly won't be the last, but, seriously, this doesn't happen often. I feel soooooo goooood… Not that I can walk, but…

"Sorry, hun. I already have to deal with the other ones."Oh yes. The other drunks. Can't forget about them. I look around the bar. It's not that many. Just… Okay, never mind. This clearly isn't a hotel, so to speak. Logic speaks for itself. This guy probably only has one or two beds for when necessity comes along. Besides, I'm still somewhat sentient. I can probably find my way home. Not that I exactly have one at this current point of time, but he doesn't know that. At least I haven't messed his floor up. Or maybe the bar's version of a porch. Y'see, I can hold my liquor. I just get to a point where I lose any ability to do stuff. But I won't throw up at least. Dad taught me that trick.

"Yer outta it, aren't ya?" There's a voice over me. Force my head to turn over and, Oh, hello Donny. What'sup? You don't seem drunk. That's a good thing. At least somebody survived the storm that seemed to come into existence when I started playing Crossing Field. And clearly intensified over the course of Wings of Freedom. I should've used that song as my close-out…. Wait, I did.

What did I play during the meantime…? Did I really play-Ugh. Memory. Again? I'll just address Donny for now. "I guess… You don't seem to be." Donny shrugs uncaringly at my comment. "Dad doesn't let me drink. Not yet." Good job Donny's dad! Wonderful parenting! "'Sides, I haveta carry'im home. Or pull'im." Or were you just watching out for your own back? Either way, it's got a positive overtone.

Back to the possibility that Donny's dad was just covering for the chance that he passes out.I glance to my left. Donny's dad is passed out. Oh, idea. "Can I sleep with you guys?" Best idea I can come up with. Other than sleeping outside. I'm sure that Donny's dad won't mind, after all. And I think that Donny might just realize this, and he confirms such. "Sure, but I can't carry ya." Dun worry, I got dis.

I stand up and fall over. But not quickly enough that I can't get my hands out front. Anticlimatic, considering my determination, but what did I expect? To simply just stand up and waltz out of this place? I'd like to, but, considering, that's kinda next to impossible at the current moment of time. I think I could crawl… But that's undignified, especially for a lady. Does it even matter right now? Yes. Yes it does. It would always matter, especially to someone like me. Dad would kill me if he could see me like this.

I push myself to my feet. Gods damn, gotta learn when to stop drinking. Waaay too wavy… But it feels sooo good…. C'mon Lyra, you can enjoy this buzz in a bed, and suffer from hangover tomorrow.I walk, slowly and steadily, alongside Donny, occasionally using his shoulder for support. Eventually, I collapse into a bed.

In all truthfulness, I know that I shouldn't be drinking. Alcohol's poison. That's what dad used to tell me. In fact, it feels good for a one reason: It messes with my perception in a feel-good way. Well, not just my perception, but also my memory. That's another thing that dad used to tell me: It kills the bad things inside of you. For me, the bad things are memories. I can't remember things as well like this. I've demonstrated that, most likely. I already can't recall most of, if not all of, tonight. I probably won't tomorrow.

Dad was always right. He always had the best pieces of wisdom to tell me. To tell people. He was a legend! And his stories… They were soooo cool. I mean, I can't describe them! You can't just retell his stories! High Deliverer! Any battle he went into, Mrs. Pavais by his side… They conquered everything and anything! Though she might have been better than him in actual combat, just a little bit, without him, I doubt she would have been able to do anything right. Okay, maybe she would have, but she was still better with him guiding her force. Dad was the strategist, and she was his hand. God and the Prophet. Okay, maybe that glorifies him a bit much, but you've got to see my point! My dad was the most amazing person I ever knew~ He was- He was… He was….. Gods damn it all…

I open my eyes and stare at the dark ceiling. It's wavy. I force myself to smile, even though I don't want to. Now that I'm here, I can see dad again! It's always good to keep a positive outlook on life. Even if you think you can't do it, just try it, and you'll see that you can. And so I smile~

…

I miss dad.

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**Author's note:**

**I wrote an outline of this in class. Dialogue and such. And then I gave it details because I heard that Fanfiction doesn't like dialogues and such. Had a lot of fun writing this one~**

**Rila is a character of concept for me. Her original character base actually is mute, and she actually does gain a voice by means of another person. In the original case, it was her friends. In this case, it was "Mrs. Pavais", whom you might recognize.**

**She is, overall, the "Support Character" in my point of view, finding ways to bypass the prejudice of people. This is something often seen in music. On that note, her character is also closely tied with music. Her name and nickname are based off the word "Lyric", but you probably already know this.**

**On either note, I hope you enjoyed this chapter~**


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